


Red Sky in the Morning...

by NavyGal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Fenris (Dragon Age), POV Hawke, POV Isabela, POV Third Person, POV various DA Characters, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Nudity, Slavery, post Inquisition, post Kirkwall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 85,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NavyGal/pseuds/NavyGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Post Kirkwall/Inquisition adventure featuring Male, Mage Champion of Kirkwall and Various other DA character.  </p><p>After the mess at Weisshaupt, all Hawke wants to do is go home, but a quick stop at Skyhold set him right on the path of a new adventure. </p><p>Red Lyrium is a plague, but someone has found a cure. Survivors of its taint and Former Red Templars are popping up all over Thedas, only with no memory of ever being cured, or infected in the first place.  If they can cure the Taint, then they can cure the blight and free the Wardens of their calling.<br/>Hawke and his new companions must find this cure, but he’s not the only one on its tail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hawke

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever crack at Fan-fiction, i usually write original work so any comments will be appreciated. I do all the editing myself as I have no CP, or Beta, so I really hope I didn't miss anything. After all, I know what it's supposed to say so mistakes may slip through the cracks.  
> These are based on the characters i used throughout my play through of the DA series. might contain minor spoilers for all three games, but it is set before of Trespasser DLC but may contain elements that could tie in with the DLC.  
> the first chapter is short as I was testing out the character voice, but the others will be longer.  
> The story, will involve violence, probably descriptive, but i am unsure of how so yet, the same with Romance.

Why, oh why did his little brother have to be a warden? Why couldn't he have been a mercenary, or a trader, or even Maker forbid, a damned Templar. No, he guessed a Templar probably would have been just as bad. Maker bless Aveline for getting Carver away from that mess.

Garret Hawke sighed, wincing as he rolled over in the double bed the inn had so graciously comped him. There were times when he hated being the Champion of Kirkwall, but when it got him free drinks and a warm bed for the night, he'd smile and sign any book they thrust at him. Especially since hero-ing didn't pay all that well, and the Amell fortune; his fortune had been frozen because surprise, surprise he was an apostate.

He thought of the mess at Weisshaupt and hoped beyond hope that the Hero of Ferelden was up for the challenge, or even that she got there in time. He trusted his letter would make it, but left without a response anyway. He knew he should have stayed, he was the bearer of bad news, but people were yelling, baby griffons were crying, and he'd honestly just stepped from the fade days before. No, he didn't need excuses. They could do this without him, it was time he returned home.

He glanced at his staff leaning against the wall across the room. He didn't strictly need it to use his magic, but after everything that just went down maybe leaving it that far out of reach was unwise. He should really get it. But even as the thought formed the ache that was his entire body protested the idea. "I wonder." He held out his hand to the staff but the second his mana boiled up he laughed at his own foolishness. "Maker's balls." He dropped his hand when he remembered he'd already tried that before. The memory made him laugh deep in his throat.

_"Wine mage, make yourself useful." Hawke glanced over his shoulder, as a gauntleted hand brushed at a stray lock of his black hair that had fallen over his forehead. The cold sharp points made him shiver. Garret looked toward the stairs that lead down to the basement. Maker, it was so far, and he was so comfortable._

_"What? You think I can conjure wine like it was lightning? If I could do that Fenris, I'd spend a lot less time sober."_

_"Figures magic couldn't be used for something useful."_

_Hawke glanced up seeing the bottle Fenris had opened before he arrived. Fenris had apparently already enjoyed it, but there had to be some left right? "Wait! I have an idea." Hawke hoisted himself up onto his elbow and held out his hand. Pulling forth his mana, he concentrated on the bottle, willing it to come to him. The bottle rattled on the spot. Fenris arched a dark brow and Hawke channelled more mana into his will. This was going to work, this was….. The bottle exploded, red wine raining down over the pair. Fenris turned his emerald gaze back to Hawke. Hawke gave him a sheepish smile. "Oops." What Fenris did next surprised him, and filled him with glee all at once. He laughed, his deep chuckle quiet and raspy, like he wasn't used to the sensation._

_"Festis bei umo canavarum, Hawke," Fenris muttered with a shake of his head. Hawke allowed himself to chuckle as Fenris dragged himself up off the ground to go retrieve more wine. 'You will be the death of me, Hawke.' Hawke sincerely hoped not._

He missed Fenris. It had of course been his own choice to leave, but that hadn't made it any easier. Yet it had to be done. Fenris would have gotten himself killed for Hawke, and he sure wasn't about to let him. He could have however handled it better than he had. A folded letter on the pillow where Fenris was supposed to wake and find his lover. He could almost imagine Fenris's dark eyebrows pulling down into a sharp V, white hair falling forward to shield green eyes, as he read the carefully worded letter. He imagined his frustration at the fact that Hawke would leave him a note even when he knew that Fenris wasn't the world's most confident reader. The glow of his Lyrium scars lighting the small room that had been theirs, as he scrunched up the letter in a fit of rage. Only to smooth it back out the second he realised what he'd done so he could read it again.

His anger would only be shadowed by that of Carver, who would have no doubt insisted on coming even though he was on the run from the very order Hawke had set off to help. He almost felt a little sorry for Aveline and her husband Donnic, having to deal with his moody men. Hawke was more than convinced that it was his charm alone that stopped them all from killing one another some days.

Varric had been his saving grace while he was on the run, Hawke couldn't contact Aveline or his brother for fear Fenris would use it to track him. He would contact Fenris, but he figured that might only be fuel for the fire. What would he say anyways?

_My dearest Fenris,_

_I'm sorry for leaving in the middle of the night like you were some drunken one night stand. It was nothing personal, and I do love you so very much, but I honestly thought I was going to die and we'd never have to have this conversation. Oh did I mention that I was a coward, you probably already guessed that. Anywho, if I happen to hear that you have been with anyone in my absence, I might actually have to turn them into a frog. Just saying._

_Truly sorry._

_Your lover,_

_Garret Hawke._

No, that would not have been a good idea at all. Makers breath could he take anything seriously? Still, he owed Varric more than a few drinks for passing the letters he did write along. He'd used his contacts, the kind Hawke was pretty sure he didn't want to know about, to send the letters on a bit of a journey before they reached their targets. He knew Fenris would find out about Skyhold, and he also knew it was only a matter of time before he came storming through their gate. He pitied the inquisitor, and Varric, who would have the immense task of talking him down. Maybe Hawke should return to Skyhold as well, because if anyone deserved Fenris's anger it was him. He was well equipped to deal with it. After all, if anybody else kissed him just to get him to shut up, he might rip out their heart on reflex.

Hawke rolled over again, his armour was very uncomfortable, but like fetching his staff, taking it off required so much effort. He was all out of effort to give at the moment, but it needed to be done. He sighed as he sat up, working the straps and buckles that held it in place. His under armour was little more than a linen shirt and light leather breeches. He got to his feet and tossed a fireball into the fireplace, the warm glow filling the room immediately. As he stretched, he mulled his next course of action over in his mind, seeing there was really only one it didn't take all that long. To Skyhold, after all there was still that little Corypheus matter to attend to. Surely they could use his help.

In a somewhat limping shamble, he made it to the door and looked to his staff. He grabbed it and summoned the last of his Mana to cast a quick healing spell over himself. It wasn't a magnificent one. After all he was better at hurting things, but it did the trick. He straightened and rolled his shoulders turning to lean the staff against the wall again. "I think I need a drink." His staff didn't object, in fact, it didn't respond at all. Thank the maker it hadn't, maybe they'd continue the conversation after he had a bit more to drink.

**** 

"Champion! Champion have you heard?" Hawke blinked open his eyes to the sound of some mad man screaming at him at this ungodly hour. He lifted his head and wiped his mouth. His head felt like it was going to fall off of his shoulders. He blinked a few times at the overly bright room. Where was he exactly? His world spun slightly and he almost fell off of his… stool. Oh, he was still at the bar, right. He scrubbed at his eyes and looked around. There were maybe two other people who seemed to have passed out around him, so it was a little less shameful. What happened last night, did someone drug him? He recalled laughing, a man, old, burly _. "Champion of Kirkwall, I'm from Kirkwall! We never met, but I was there, saw it all. You, my friend, are a hero,_ _tonight_ _you drink for free. Hawke, drinks are on me."_

Oh right, so that's what happened. He never could turn down a drink someone brought him, he always felt rude. A voice brought him back to the present and he tried to focus on the… Inquisition soldier standing in front of him, huh?

"What can I do for you, my good man?" By the Maker was his voice always so loud and annoying. He should really try to work on that. The boy that stood in front of him was bright eyed and had to be half his age. Lean, unassuming, a spy, or maybe a scout.

"I was told you were in town Serah. I thought I'd share the good news. The elder one is dead, and the hole in the sky is closed, the Inquisitor did it, she actually did it!"

Hawke tried to smile, but the boy's voice hurt far too much. He was sure the look on his face resembled what a smile should look like. "Excellent! Fantastic, we should celebrate!" the thought made his stomach lurch. "You should celebrate, my treat, I'm just going to celebrate here, like this." He let his head fall to the bar and closed his eyes. Yes, he liked celebrating. There was a firm tap on his shoulder and the spy/scout laughed and stomped off. Well, Hawke assumed he stomped because every step made his brain thump. "Tell the barman the Champion sent you, they'll hook you up." Hawke sighed as the door swung closed. Well, what was he going to do now?

 


	2. Fenris

Fenris spurred his colt to go faster as he crested the hill and Skyhold fortress came into view. The wind had the chill of the mountains as it tore at the bare patches of skin through his light leather armour. He snarled at the thought of possibly seeing Hawke again. “Venhedis, Hawke. Vishanti caevas.”  _To the void with you Hawke. May the demons take you._ He murmured in his native Tevene. He always seemed to slip back into it whenever he was angry. But he regretted muttering at as soon as it left his mouth. He didn’t mean that, and from all accounts Hawke had already been to the void, and just strolled back out. Kaffas, he hoped that wasn’t true. Please be another of Varric’s wild stories. Fenris wasn’t sure he could deal with that thought right about now. No, right now his priority was finding Hawke, then he’d…. well he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d do but it would be something. He’d not gotten that far yet.

The rocky path turned to cobbled stone and Fenris gave the colt a slight kick with his heels, pushing it that little bit more. The beast neighed loudly between pants but obliged. He knew he was pushing the animal slightly harder than he should, but they were nearly there. After he’d found Hawke, he’d be sure the creature was tended to. Skyhold’s massive iron gate loomed up ahead at the end of the bridge leading toward the fortress. The stone beneath his horse’s feet was worn and had seen many shoes beats in its time. ' _A busy place,'_  he mused. Two soldiers watched him, bows drawn and trained on the weak points in his armour from the gates twin towers as he approached. He slowed to a trot, then a walk before finally coming to a stop. He jumped down grabbing the massive great sword he carried and slung it over his shoulder, just in case.

“Halt, state your business at Skyhold.” The voice belonged to a young woman who stood behind the gate. She was in full armour so he couldn’t make much else out about her features. He was certain she was young, though that was only a guess based on the high sweet voice. She was slight, that much was easy to tell, also tall and her build suggested she was Elven. Her next statement confirmed it. She spoke in fluent Elvenan, he assumed demanding the same thing she’d just asked. He spoke only three languages well, and Elvhenan wasn’t one of them. He kept walking. He heard the arrow just in time to step out of its way, the ease in which he did told him it was a warning shot, so he stopped.

“Kaffas,” he muttered. They weren’t playing around.

“He’s a Vint, I don’t speak Tevene. Someone go fetch Krem, double time. This guy doesn’t look like he likes to be kept waiting!” The girl called over her shoulder. Fenris couldn’t help the small smile that moved to his lips.

“There is no need. I speak the king’s speech. I am here looking for someone. His name is Garret Hawke, I am…” he trailed off. It wasn’t like he and Hawke didn’t acknowledge their relationship openly, but they just didn’t like labels. Never had, Danairous had labelled him Fenris, his little wolf, and he’d taken back that name and made it his own. Besides, he was no more boyfriend material than Hawke was, and it felt foolish to address him as such. “A friend, a close friend.”

The girl removed the helmet and studied him with large golden eyes. He was sure that this girl’s eyes were large even by their standard. Pretty, young, and Elven as he expected, also Dalish according to the Vallaslin on her face. Though he knew better than to assume. Most people assumed he was Dalish thanks to his scars. But it was clear this elf, whatever her origins, didn’t know him, and wasn’t about to trust him. The look on her face said it all.

 People rarely recognised him from Varric’s tales, unless they were in Kirkwall, of course, and Varric had been kind enough to leave out the ordeal with his former master, so his scars only got a minor mention when he was first introduced in the book and not in great detail. He thinks there exact description was. ‘White Lyrium scars covered every inch of his body. From his chin to his toes.’ Then there was no mention of their appearance again, other than they glowed blue on occasion. So his personal involvement in the book was not a big one. Yet because Hawke had always taken him on every adventure, so theirs, his and Hawke's together, was larger than he liked and it wasn’t until he spoke his name that people usually connected the dots. He’d never read the Tale, but the others had told him all about it.

“Never heard of him, you should probably be on your way Tevinter.” There was suspicion in her voice, she thought he was here to harm Hawke. He was almost forty percent sure that wasn’t the case, but he could promise nothing, he was in a bit of a mood. A small part of him wanted to hurt Hawke the way he’d been hurting for the past few months. The need for vengeance was an old habit he was trying to shake.

“Open the gates Elf!” He knew losing his temper wasn’t going to help right at this second but that was all he had. If Garret was in there, he was sure as the void getting in there as well. Even if he had to ghost his way right through the bars. It wouldn’t be pleasant but he’d do it. 

“Look, we don’t want any trouble and I doubt you do either. But unless we are told by the Commander to let you in, I’m not opening this gate. So leave and come back with permission to be here, then we will talk.”

He could feel the burn of the Lyrium in his skin as it flared with his anger. The lines glowing as they did when they activated. He started to pace, cursing in Tevene, trying to reign in his anger. He didn’t want to have to do this the hard way. If they’d only get Hawke.

“Someone get the Commander and some Templars!”

“I am no mage!” His voice left him as little more than a growling snarl of words.  He sprung forward and wrapped his long slender fingers around the bars.

“But you do have a filthy mouth. Where in the void did you learn to speak like that? Anybody would think you were a pirate, only Vint’s rarely become pirates. Even they hate us. Now I need you to back up.” Fenris watched the man as he got closer. His face was delicate, soft, and his voice was masculine enough yet there was something off about it. Fenris decided he didn’t care what it was and turned his attention to the fact that the man was from Tevinter and also a mercenary judging by his uniform. Dark hair, shaved short, eyes the colour of ale. This must be the Krem, the Elf guard had sent for. Fenris backed up a step. He’d rather not have to fight. Not unless they left him no choice. 

“Atta boy. Now let me introduce myself. My name is Cremisius Aclassi, but most call me Krem. Lieutenant of the Bulls Chargers, currently in the service of the Inquisition. And you are?”

“My name is Fenris, I…..”

“Makers breath! Open the gates.” That voice was familiar, and the man that ran into view followed closely by two Templars was also familiar. The sight brought back memories from his time in Kirkwall. Though he did look better than when Fenris had last seen him. Knight-Commander Cullen strolled forward, a welcoming smile on his handsome face. A smile pulled at the corners of Fenris’s lips in response, but he pushed it away. He had liked Cullen from the few times they’d met in Kirkwall. They’d both shared a jaded hatred of magic that Fenris had noticed right away. Yet both were reasonable enough to overlook certain things if need be.

The gate before him rose as Cullen came to a stop. He’d gotten a fancy new uniform since they had last met and his blonde, curly hair looked more styled than he remembered. A soldier pushed past Fenris and took hold of his horse. It had all his belongings on it still, but he figured he’d get them back. Fenris gave a small incline of his head. “Knight-Commander Cullen.”

“Please, just call me Cullen. I don’t go by Knight-Commander anymore. I have left the order.” Fenris quirked an eyebrow. That he found surprising. He’d not heard.

“Very well.”

“I’m sorry for this mess.” He motioned for Fenris to enter, wisely not touching him. He’d gotten better at accepting passing touches from strangers. He didn’t automatically try and kill them anymore, which was a big improvement. But he still hated to be touched, especially by people he hardly knew and avoided it whenever possible. “We’d received word that a stranger was heading our way, but the spies were unable to identify him. I put the gate on high alert. You should have sent a raven, your welcome would have been a friendlier one.” Cullen patted Krem on the shoulder as they passed. The soldiers watched him with the same weary suspicion he’d been greeted with, but let him pass.

“I did not wish to announce my arrival, I was careful.”

“Yes, very. Leliana was going out of her mind trying to figure it out. She doesn’t like not knowing things.”

Fenris stopped walking, so Cullen mirrored the gesture. He was in no mood for idle chit-chat and he would catch up with Cullen after he had dealt with Hawke.

“Where is Hawke?” He could hear the anger in his own voice and Cullen gave a weary smile.

“Hawke?” He tested the word on his tongue drawing it out like it was a perplexing question. Fenris knew stalling when he saw it.

“I know he is here, where is he?”

“Hawke, well he’s…. that is he….”

“Broody! Andraste’s flaming knickers, what are you doing here?” Varric bellowed as he jogged up to them. Fenris braced himself as the dwarf wrapped his arms around his middle in a crushing hug. He bore it in silence. Varric was his friend, Hawke’s best friend, and there was no escaping it.

“Thank the Maker.” At that, Fenris shot Cullen a vicious look, but to his credit the other man barely flinched. 

“Broody that shit my work on Hawke, but it’s not going to work on me, or Curly. So why don’t we calm down, head over to the tavern and we’ll find you some nice expensive wine, huh?”

“No, first you will tell me if he is here. And if he is not, you will tell me where he has gone. Then wine, sound fair?” His words were reasonable he thought, but his tone was still filled with barely contained anger. He couldn’t believe they were protecting Hawke! He had been the one wronged, not Hawke.

“Curly, I’ve got this.” Varric put a meaty hand on Fenris’s arm as Cullen gave a curt nod. Muttering something about being just over there should they need him. Fenris didn’t watch him go, and he had to resist the urge to shake off the other man’s touch. Fenris stared down into brown eyes, familiar and kind. He wanted to be mad at Varric, but he knew better than anyone that Varric would do anything for Hawke. In fact he would do anything for any one of his friends. It was what Fenris had always liked most about him. “I won’t lie to you Broody, Hawke is here, but it’s maybe not the best time for you to go barging in and rip him a well-deserved new one. He’s seen some shit…” he sighed and looked away. “We all have, but Hawke isn’t taking it well, not that he’d ever admit that. You know him, always has a smile and witty comment ready. I know he did you wrong Broody, I’ve already had a firm talk with him about that, but could you go easy on him? I’m not saying you forgive him, but just don’t rip his heart out and crush it.”

Fenris turned his face away. All his companions in Kirkwall had known about him and Hawke. It had become apparent quickly when they had more than once shown up at his Hightown mansion asking if he had seen Hawke because some drama needed his attention only to find him there. It had been innocent enough back then, Fenris had needed a friend. Not that he’d known it at the time and Hawke was always willing to lend an ear. Harmless fun, he’d thought. After all, Hawke was a shameless flirt, but he was hardly the only one Hawke flirted with. In fact for the longest time Fenris was sure Hawke was after Aveline. That was until Varric had mentioned the other man’s preferences one night at the hanged man. And Isabell had laughed at him for not already knowing.

He, of course, was the last one to figure out that Hawke had been coming on to him. It was a startling thought. Fenris had never really had much of a preference himself, or if he had he could no longer remember what it was. Sex wasn’t something a slave was allowed to indulge in as they pleased, especially so in his case. It was common practice for slaves to be used in such a manner and the act was usually forced upon them, so he’d not even considered it himself for a long time. So the thought that he had a choice, that Hawke would let him decide, was nice.

Yet even with everyone knowing as much as they did about his and Hawke’s love life, he knew none of them knew as much as Varric. He was, after all, Hawke’s best friend, and he was sure the other man knew all his dirty secrets. He was probably putting them all in a book, for all Fenris knew.

“Kaffas Varric, what do you take me for? I am less inclined to hurt him than you are. But I must see him. I cannot promise you things will be friendly, but….” Fenris trailed off as he caught sight of a figure out of the corner of his eye. He spun abruptly, a swirl of emotions tore through him. Love, hate, hurt, anger, joy, relief, happiness, finally the whirl settled back on anger. He could deal with anger. Hawke’s steps faltered as a glared moved to Fenris’s face. Though his smile never did. The woman who was walking a step behind him to his left looked between him and Fenris with a worried expression. But Fenris didn’t care about her, only Hawke.

“Fenris, let me explain.” That voice, his voice. Oh, how Fenris had missed it. Still the sound of it produced a small tug of hurt in his chest and that fuelled a wild anger in his belly. He clenched his fists. Hawke took a step closer and Fenris could no longer hold it in. He was so confused at what he was supposed to be feeling with the mix of emotions that was taring up his insides. So he gave into what he knew. Without warning as to what he planned to do Fenris pulled back his fist and socked the other man in the jaw, hard.

Hawke’s face was thrown roughly to the side, caught off guard, as Varric stepped forward to grab Fenris’s arm. Seemingly out of nowhere Cullen was in front of the woman that had arrived with Hawke, shielding her protectively with his body even as she tried to push him away, with a roll of her eyes. Hawke waved a hand telling them all to back away. He straightened, then adjusted his bearded jaw as Fenris glared at him. “I may have deserved that.” Fenris started a rant that could not be described in any other language but Tevene. Hawke quirked an eyebrow and Fenris realised what he had done. “Sweetie, I don’t speak Tevene you need to…”

“I know, damn you, Hawke!” Fenris took a few calming breaths. He decided to let the sweetie comment slide just this once as he studied Garret Hawke. His beard looked longer than Fenris remembered and his shaggy, dark hair was in desperate need of a trim. He would have to attend to that, he mused to distract himself from the anger and hurt. Hawke smiled at him, hand still massaging his jaw and it was then, that Fenris noticed how gaunt his lover's cheeks looked. And though he could not be totally sure, seeing his armour hid most of his body well, he was certain that Hawke had lost a fair bit of weight since he’d last seen him. There was also a weary sag to the man’s shoulders and though neither of them was exactly as young as they had once been he noticed that Garret looked years older than the man actually was. Dark smudges coloured his lightly tanned skin under blue-grey eyes. The sight hurt him more than Hawke leaving.

“Garret…” he murmured softly meeting that blue-grey gaze. The other overwhelming feeling that was fighting to break free finally dug its way through his anger and worry. Again Fenris acted without giving it a second thought and pulled the larger man flush against him and forced their lips to meet in a long overdue embrace. He was aware of all the eyes on them, they were, after all, standing in the courtyard by the gate, but he didn’t care. He twisted a gauntleted hand into wavy black hair and tugged Hawke closer. The other man’s mouth surrendering to the onslaught and giving in. The kiss said everything that Fenris would never be able to express himself.  It told of his worry, of his loss, of the crushing need he’d felt at the other man’s absence. It spoke of the pain he’d felt but also of the anger and finally the determination he’d had not to let the only worthwhile thing in his life slip away from him.  Hawke made a noise deep in this throat akin to a moan, and Fenris could feel his echoing growl building in his own. It was this that had told him they were rapidly moving past what should be done in polite company so he decided to be the stronger man and break the kiss.

He used his grip on Hawke's hair to separate them. The heat in the other man’s eyes coiled in his belly and for just a second he considered mentally scarring their friends and taking his lover right there. But he reigned that thought in. He was still angry with Hawke, no matter how sexy the other man’s come-hither grin and bedroom eyes were. He shoved him away none to gently and Hawke tried to compose himself. It took him longer than Fenris and he was still running fingers through his dark hair as Fenris looked around. Heat lighting his cheeks, yet he refused to be embarrassed.  

Cullen was looking at his boots, the man had gone bright red, and Fenris could have sworn he was laughing. Although that wasn’t the first time Cullen had seen Hawke and Fenris get a little carried away. They had, after all, sided with the Templars and quite frankly neither of them expected to walk away from that alive. The woman, who was now nestled into Cullen’s side, his big armoured arm draped effortlessly around her waist, looked to be elbowing him in the ribs to get him to stop. Her own cheeks pink and her look chastising. With her free hand, she reached up and brushed a lock of white blonde hair out of her delicate, and very lovely face. Fenris caught a glimmer of green magic pulse, momentarily lighting both her hair and face. The inquisitor, he assumed. She was not what he was expecting at all.

Varric smiled and looked nonplussed, he’d seen it probably more than most and was already perhaps making notes about the encounter in his mind to include in his next book. He’d joked about the fact that he planned to continue chronicling Hawke’s adventures. To which Hawke had just smiled and told him to be his guest, he didn’t plan on having any more. Because that worked out well for him so far. Fenris was starting to believe that Hawke was incapable of being normal. That he just wasn’t supposed to have a laid back boring life. Which suited him just fine, because neither was he.

“Well, I think that maybe we should give you two some time to work things out.” The woman cleared her throat. “Fenris, I assume?” Fenris gave a curt nod as Hawke tried to slip a hand around his waist. Fenris bared his teeth in anger at the action and Hawke quickly backed up. Despite what Hawke thought, he was not forgiven.  “I would love to be formally acquainted at a later date, but for now, Skyhold is open to you. If you need anything at all, you need only to ask. Varric, Cullen, if you please.” She stepped away from Cullen and gestured towards a big stone staircase her and Hawke had descended moments ago and both of the men nodded in agreement.

“Good to see you again Broody, find me for a drink later, I promised you wine.”  Fenris nodded to Varric as he watched them walk off and he couldn’t help but smile, somethings never changed. “As for you Curly, up for some Wicked Grace.” Cullen's shoulders tensed and the inquisitor laughed.

“Not on your life Dwarf.”

No. They never changed.


	3. Cullen

Cullen Rutherford pressed his palms to the desk and sighed. The reports Hawke had asked him to retrieve had returned and it was not what he expected. He knew Evelyn would want to know about this. No doubt she’d want this in the inquisitions arsenal, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. He’d been scanning the reports over when Skyhold had received their surprise visitor and wondering what exactly he should do with this information. He wondered if it was the maker’s way of sending him the help he would need for the immense task ahead. He knew better than most that if you threw Hawke and his team at something it, well… you got results. Not always the results you were hoping for but, that wasn’t always a bad thing.

Leliana would no doubt be bustling at this news. He’d mentioned Hawke’s lead to her in passing over the war table while waiting for Evelyn to arrive. He’d done it knowing that she wouldn’t be able to help herself, and her spies could get the kind of information that his soldiers couldn’t. That way he wouldn’t have to come out and directly ask for her help, yet he’d still get the information he wanted. And people always assumed he had no tact. Just because he’d rather solve a problem using force didn’t mean he couldn’t manipulate with the best of them.

Then it had only been a lead, but the reports in his hands said otherwise. There was no way they had come to him without passing through their spymaster's fingers first. She’d mentioned to him that her spies might look into the issue should anything turn up. Now, he wondered what she had found. If his scouts had found this, her spies must have much more.

The problem was he knew the Inquisition didn’t have the resources to follow this up at the moment. And even if they did he wasn’t sure that was wise. This wasn’t something that a single organisation should control. Besides this required discretion and the Inquisition was still in full clean up mode after the breach. If they were going to remain active, they needed to prove their worth in this time of need. Not that they hadn’t done that already. What more did they expect, they had already mended the tare in the sky and banished an evil darkspawn. But Josephine assured him that their hard work just needed to continue. Makers arse the world could be ungrateful. This lead would more than prove their worth he was sure, but should they turn up empty handed, that was resources they could have used elsewhere. As it was, he had soldiers at all corners of the map dealing with the aftermath of the breach. Reporting any remaining rifts for the Inquisitor, and dealing with anyone who decided to take advantage of the disorder. There was also the problem of Venatori and not to mention the Red Templars to address. Just because their master was gone didn’t mean they were. Maker help him, there simply wasn’t enough of them. Though the Inquisition grew daily and he had a new batch of recruits going out monthly, it still it never seemed there was enough to keep Thedas safe.

He really needed to show these to Hawke before he made any calls. It was his lead after all and he couldn’t see Hawke wanting to keep something like this to himself.  If the information in these reports turned out to be true, the lives it could save. Makers grace he wanted it to be true. A cure for the Red Lyrium taint, a cure for the Blight. Hope for the Wardens. This was big.

There was a soft knock on his door. He looked up to see Evelyn pushing it opened. He’d thought she’d gone, but clearly it hadn’t been far. She often found her way back here now that most of her companions had taken their leave. She’d gotten used to running around the hold checking in on each of them. Though the Inquisition itself was booming, most of her inner circle, their friends, had already moved on. Only Bull, Dorian, Sera and Varric remained. Though Dorian was scheduled to leave for his homeland in a month, Cullen had a full guard ready to escort him and before Hawke had returned Varric was leaving for Kirkwall. So her trips around the hold were short and she was bored, he tried to accommodate her as much as he could. Even let her help him with his reports. Yes, he sure knew how to show women a good time.   

“Do you have a minute?” she strolled forward, the light armour she wore hugged every curve of her body. It was so distracting, he wished he’d never told her just how much he liked seeing her in armour. Now he believed she done it just to tease him. Makers' breath he was sure of it.

“For you, always.” 

“Sweet talker.” She gazed over his desk as she trailed a hand along it, her fingertips brushing reports and updates from all over. She’d not entered when they had walked back together. She’d simply pressed him against the door, the way she did and kissed him. Slow and long. Before taking her leave.

His men had long since learnt not to interrupt him with minor updates when he was ‘dealing’ with the inquisitor. He still recalled the ribbing he’d gotten from his men the night of their first kiss when he’d walked into the barracks. He wished he’d taken a good look at the soldier that had interrupted them, but he’d been so caught up and angry at the interruption that he hadn’t cared who it was. His nasty, ‘what!’ and the following glare was enough to make the poor man backtrack pretty fast anyway. He’d been promptly forgotten the second he was gone. He had wanted to kiss the inquisitor, Evelyn Trevelyan, for the longest time. Now he could, whenever he wished.  But it was hardly enough.

“I do believe the Inquisitor told you to take some time off, Commander, let others deal with all this….” She gestured to the mess on his desk, and it _was_ a mess, it was yet another thing he should take care of. Order was what kept things running and there was no order to his mess. “At least for a few days. I distinctly remember her saying you looked tired.”

“I have.” He only half lied. He’d only briefly glanced at the updates and reports his scouts had sent him, he’d spent no more than an hour on them tops, which was why they were in such disarray. It hadn’t given him enough time to sort them as he usually would. And he’d only issued half a dozen orders to his second, Iselva, and overseen the training of the recruits for half an hour that morning. He may have also made a quick check on the Horsemaster and the armourer, but that was it. Well that was almost it, there may have been a few more little errands he’d snuck in there, but those were hardly worth mentioning, especially not to Evelyn. He had been downright lazy in comparison to an ordinary day. He’d even had his breakfast in bed and she knew that.

“I was in here by chance when Fenris arrived. I am working on a favour for Hawke, I owe him a lot after Kirkwall, and so I decided to push it through while I was enjoying my day off.”

“I owe Hawke too, but you need to relax. Do you know what Sera calls you? Well, one of the things she calls you anyway.”

Cullen quirked an eyebrow as she made her way around the desk and hoisted herself onto it in front of him.

“I could only imagine. To this day, I’ve not touched a single piece of cake she’s sent me. Not one.”

“Yes, she won’t tell me what that is about, just giggles and says everybody likes cake, yeah.”

“How the two of you are friends, I cannot understand. She worries me. I’m always waiting for one of her friends to say I’ve been mistreating recruits and end up with a dagger in my back.”

“Have you?” Evelyn smirked at the question.

“No, but even if I had, I wouldn’t tell you, friend of Red Jenny.”

“She’s not that bad you know. This one time she and I spent the entire afternoon pranking….”

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on.”

“Pranking, you and the other advisors.” Evelyn gave him a sheepish smile and suddenly Cullen realised what she’d done, he’d assumed it had been Sera at the time. Yet another time he’d been the laughing stock of the Barracks for weeks. After he’d nearly flipped his desk on a bad day.

He’d been tired, the nightmares his withdrawals were giving him had been worse than anything you could find in the void, not to mention the pain of withdrawals themselves. To top that off Evelyn hadn’t reported in, in well over twenty-four hours and the desk, had just the slightest rock to it all day. It was the straw, so to speak and he’d flipped out in the middle of a debriefing when his quill had slipped thanks to the desk rocking. He’d booted the blighted thing, breaking the leg effectively making the rock permanent and cursed Andraste, the bloody Maker and all their disciples, in a colourful enough display to get him sent straight to the void. His men had found it hilarious and he’d threatened each and every one of them with Andraste’s fire if they didn’t leave his sight at once. Even after that, they still found it hilarious. 

True, it had been good for morale, but that wasn’t the point. It was a weakness he’d rather not have exploited.  Besides Sera had told his guys that they had sabotaged it and eventually one of them had told him. He’d not bothered to bring it up.  

“You did this!” he used all his strength to rock the wobbly desk even though she was sitting on it. “Do you know how…?” He stopped when he noticed Evelyn was trying ever so hard not to laugh. “Evelyn this is not funny I….”

A quiet laugh escaped her lips and Cullen could feel his annoyance fading and a smile moving to his own lips. “I know it’s… Cullen, I’m…” she covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. Her face was going red with the effort. Maker, she was so beautiful. How had he gotten so lucky?  He leant forward and swept her into his arms. His lips seeking out hers, and hers parting to his with a strangled laugh. He allowed his hands to caress her body, pull her close, even as she pretended to struggle to get away. When they broke apart, they were both laughing and Cullen couldn’t help but think he couldn’t recall a time before this that he’d been so happy. His whole life had been leading to her, and Maker was it worth the wait. He’d never imagine the supposed end of the world, would have been the best thing to happen to him.  

“I’m not sure why I bother with you some days.” The lie rolled smoothly off of his tongue and Evelyn smiled brightly. In another life, she would have made one hell of a rogue. But in this one, he wouldn’t change his mage for anything.

“Because you love me.” Her tone was teasing, but his was dead serious when he replied.

“That I do, Maker so much.” He kissed her again. This one nothing more than a soft caress of their lips. She pulled away and grabbed his hand attempting, without much luck, to drag him toward the door.

“Since you can’t be trusted, you will have to spend the rest of the day with me.” She mused and he smiled at the thought. Oh, how much he wanted that. They never got to spend any significant amount of time together. The last time had been when he’d taken her to Ferelden, to his hometown. Even then, he’d had work to do and had only stopped long enough for him to take her to his favourite spot by the lake. She’d insisted they’d visit his family, but he’d insisted there had been no time. The end of the world waited for no man he was afraid, and when this crazy was all over they would spend all the time in the world together. Maybe even get a house in Ferelden, if the Marcher in her wasn’t too averse to that. Maybe he could even sweet talk King Alistair into letting him buy the land near that lake. They’d both been in the same Templar class for a while.  

He glanced at the reports. He really ought to talk to Hawke, but the tug at his hand, and the fact that while the information in them was important, it wasn’t so important it couldn’t wait until the morning, swayed him. Besides Hawke had his own relationship issues to deal with. Not that he considered Evelyn an issue and honestly if his biggest problem was the woman he loved was forcing him to have the day off to spend time with her then it could hardly be seen as an issue at all actually. With a sigh he didn’t at all feel, he let Evelyn drag him away.

***

“And I believe that’s game, when are you going to accept no matter how much you cheat, you will never win.” Cullen moved the chess piece into place. Checkmate.

“I was not…” he raised an eyebrow at her and she huffed. “Clearly I wasn’t cheating well enough. Fine have chess, I still have wicked grace.” Cullen blushed. He was never living that down. He’d be on his death bed and someone would bring that up he was sure of it. How they had convinced him that betting his clothing was a good idea he’d never know. He’d gotten them back eventually, well, most of them back, but still the Commander of Skyhold’s military forces streaking through the halls at night wasn’t something easily forgotten. Maybe he could start to claim he’d been drunk, not that it made it look any better. That story had become a legend at Skyhold. What his men must think of him. He was sure by now he was a running joke in the barracks. What would the Commander do next? If he pushed hard enough, he’d probably even find they had wagers. Maker, he was a fool. 

He swore it was only by Andraste’s blessing that they had held the game only a short run from Evelyn’s room. Even still, he knew for a fact that he’d flashed more than a few Orlesian nobles his arse on his way across the main hall.  Evelyn had been kind enough to allow him to spend the night, but she had made him stay naked the entire time. He hadn’t minded then, though when the morning come, he was forced to squeeze himself into a pair of her breeches and make the trek back to the barracks in nothing but them. It was the night before all over again. Only worse. The pair she’d given him were ring velvet, blue and soft but clearly womens. A small part of him would have preferred to be naked, rather than risk the lads seeing him in drag, but that part wasn’t big enough to risk all of Skyhold seeing him as the Maker made him. A few of his men had even wolf-whistled their commanding officer as he done his walk of shame. There was no way he was ever out living that night.  

“You know what, I’m not even going to fight it anymore. In fact….” He stood and spread his arms. “I, Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Military Forces at Skyhold, ran through her halls completely naked because I lost everything in a game of cards.” Evelyn reached over the table and pulled him back down into his seat. Her face red as she desperately tried not to laugh. Cullen didn’t bother to try, he laughed. It was oddly freeing to admit that out loud.  His glance around the garden revealed a few things. First, the guards that were posted there today were doing their absolute best not to laugh at their CO sudden announcement. And the second, the Orlesians nobles were going to have a field day at his expense, again. There were already many huddled together whispering in hushed tones and glancing their way.

“What in the void was that?” Evelyn laughed, finally gazing at him over the table in what could only be described as awe. Cullen was quite surprised at himself for doing such a thing. Maybe the Inquisitor was rubbing off on him.

“There, now it holds no power over me.” He smiled brightly, he wasn’t going to allow himself to regret it. He wasn’t.

“Oh, you keep telling yourself that, now you get to relive it a hundred times a day. Until the Orlesians tire of talking about it.” She leant forward and a conspiratorial smiled moved to her lips. “And who in their right mind would tire of talking about that perfect arse of yours naked. I know I never do. It’s Dorian’s and my favourite lunch time topic.”

“Maker’s breath.” A blush moved to his cheeks and coloured his ears. Evelyn grabbed his hand from across the table and kissed it, the cool brush of her lips only brightened his blush. There may have been a nagging feeling coiling within him as he watched the nobles whisper from behind their masks, one he refused to accept was regret.

A bell sounded through the garden announcing evening meals. It was the second they’d heard. The first bell was for Skyhold’s soldiers, the ones that were off duty. Most nobles preferred not to have to enjoy their meal with the rabble. The mages typically joined in as well. A few even donning the uniform and taking up the staff or even the sword. He never thought that he’d be happy to see that. But he was, they were a huge help in battle and with basic training they didn’t have to be helpless. Hawke was living proof of that. The man could kill you just as quick with a blade as he could with magic. The staff he’d carried in Kirkwall had even had a blade at its tip. He was proud to lead the first truly allied army, and he was also rather hungry.  The first was the one he usually responded to, so his stomach growled in protest at the sound. He was just so used to dining with his men, and the thought of dining with Evelyn worried him a little. He’d have to use table manners, try to remember his niceties.

“Come on, let's head to the kitchen before you starve.”

He gave a sheepish grin, his damned cheeks heating and betraying him again.  “You heard that huh?”

“Cullen, the whole garden heard your stomach growling. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I let my man go hungry? Come on, I’m sure your announcement hasn’t had the chance to go far yet.”

***

Hawke dropped his tray down next to the Inquisitor while Fenris took a seat quietly next to him. If Cullen hadn’t watched the slender elf sit he’d not even had realised he had. The warrior was very quiet. Useful skill. Cullen greeted them with a friendly smile, even if he was a tad disappointed that their private dinner had been interrupted.

“So, I hear clothing is optional in the halls of Skyhold now.” Hawke’s black hair was still messy from his ‘altercation’ with Fenris in the courtyard earlier and a bruise had already begun to show near his mouth. Most of it was hidden by a scruffy beard. He buttered the roll that was on his plate, blue eyes never once leaving Cullen. “Because personally I live a clothing optional kind of lifestyle myself. Isn’t that right Fenris?” The elf smirked and nodded apparently willing to play along. Cullen couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast to the Elf he’d met in Kirkwall. The one who had stood in silence glaring, not at anyone, just glaring. Maybe Hawke had been good for him. A few of his Templars had wanted to bring him in, but his open disdain for mages had stopped them. That and the rumour that he could rip a man’s heart from his chest without breaking the skin. None of them were eager to test that, and he’d rather not risk ordering them too. 

“He does. Gets very inconvenient when we have guests.”

Hawke, who apparently hadn’t expected Fenris to play along, nearly choked on his food, as the rest of them laughed.

“Leave him alone you two, and Hawke as much as it pains me to say this, and it does pain me…” Evelyn gave him a once over and Cullen tried to ignore the quick bite of jealousy ripping through him. He knew she was only playing, and that Hawke was the last person he should feel threatened by but that didn’t stop the possessive feeling boiling in him. “Maker does it pain me, but Hawke keep your clothes on, please.”

“You are just no fun, inquisitor. Picture this. The Halls of Skyhold filled with burly naked men, bodies, dirty and glistening from combat. The only items of clothing left on tight, smooth bodies is worn, mud covered boots and dented helms. You know, for mystique.” Evelyn paused and seemed to consider that thought. While Cullen and much to his surprise, Fenris shuddered. That wasn’t an image he wanted in his head while he was enjoying his dinner. And he had so been enjoying it too. He pushed his tray away, suddenly having no appetite. Maker that image would be burned into his mind for eternity.

“Valid point you make Hawke, I’ll consider it. Oh, I have to run that one by Dorian, did you meet Dorian last time you were here? Of course you did. The pair of you in a room, Maker help us all.”

“Tall, tanned, sexy accent, marvellous moustache, a bit of a self-absorbed tit?” Evelyn laughed and Cullen couldn’t help but notice that Fenris’s grip on his utensils had gotten rather tight. Glad to see he wasn’t the only one who tended toward irrationally jealous at times. Though knowing Dorian as he did, maybe that wasn’t so irrational.  

“That about sums him up. Oh if Fenris will let me borrow you for just an hour after dinner… right, Andraste’s nickers! I’m so rude.” She turned her gaze to Fenris and held out a hand. The knife clattered to the table as he forced his fist open. Hawke raised an eyebrow at the elf but said nothing. Slowly he reached forward and everyone at the table held their breath. Maker, he should have told her Fenris hated being touched. The handshake was brief and he pulled his hand away quickly like the action hurt him. Evelyn didn’t even seem to notice. Or if she had, she ignored it.

“I’m Evelyn, the Inquisitor and future Mrs Rutherford.” Cullen knew it was a joke, and it had only been a playful way to announce their relationship but he choked on his own breath even still. Her hand moved to his from across the table. “Relax Cullen, I’m only joking.”

He smiled, well he tried to smile as he caught the breath he just lost. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about marrying Evelyn, he had, in passing. He’d thought of their future together, house, mabari, Maker forbid even kids. He’d always just assumed they’d be married in those thoughts. But never out loud, they barely been together a year, it was far too early to be even thinking such things. And he’d told himself that a million times.

“Don’t worry Fenris had the exact same reaction, when I proposed that he permanently adopt the Hawke family name. And we’ve known each other for, Maker this is going to make me feel old, eleven years, right?”

“Something like that.” Fenris agreed, his shoulders tense.

“Men, am I right Hawke.” Evelyn turned back to Hawke and Hawke smiled in agreement. He should have known that the pair would become fast friends. Even he had liked Hawke, despite the fact that the man was an apostate. He was just one of those people, sometimes he was hard to like, but even harder to hate. 

“Sometimes I think it would be easier if I just liked women. Women I understand. Dating them would be a breeze.” Cullen scoffed, then realised what he’d done. Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest and fixed him with a look that told him exactly where he’d put his foot. Hawke coughed into his hand to disguise his laugh. Fenris gave him a pitying look. How did he get himself into these situations? Knowing he was outnumbered, and knowing if he stayed, things would probably only get worse for him, he stood.

“Well, I must go find Krem… Urgent matters and all.” He stepped away from the table, tripped a little, but brushed it off. Evelyn’s green gaze never left him for a second. His cheeks heated and he cleared his throat. “Hawke I have those reports. Meet me in my office tomorrow to go over them.” 

Fenris cleared his throat and stood as well. Cullen was suddenly glad the attention was briefly off of him. “I will accompany you.”

“Fen?” Hawke's voice was soft, Cullen would almost describe it as sooky.

“Stay, catch up with your friends, I will find you later. We will talk.”

Cullen turned and walked away with a nod of his head as his only goodbye. The soft pad of Fenris’s bare feet on the stone was the only indication the elf had followed.

 

 


	4. Leliana/Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is split between the two POV, i was going to let it be two chapters but Leliana's part was just too short alone. Even though most of the chapters are on the shorter side, i wanted to move it along a bit. :D

Leliana read the report in her hand another time. This was big, colossal even. She wasn’t sure if the Commander knew exactly what he’d stumbled upon. The reports his scouts had gathered were crude at best. Her spies had turned up so much more. She was not disappointed. She turned to the spy awaiting orders.

“Bring me him for questioning. I want the truth, and I need to hear it for myself.” The spy nodded and hurried off, using the exit that lead out onto the battlements. But her spy would more than likely scale the wall of Skyhold to remain undetected, as she had to get in, in the first place. Red Templars, cured. Maker, they’d thought it not possible. But more than one former Templar had shown up at their old chantry with no memory since the time of the conclave.

At first, when she’d read the report Cullen’s scout had sent she didn’t believe it to be true. Purely rumour or an elaborate hoax maybe, but two more reports had arrived that same day, and it had warranted at least a look from her spies. Hawke had been on to something, his interest in a cure was unknown, but she knew someone who would find this information fascinating.

She held up her gloved hand and a raven took perch almost instantly. The little red band around its foot told her it was indeed the bird she’d been hoping for. She tucked a message into the small pouch it carried. “You know what to do.” And sent the bird flying.

“Nightingale, kitchen staff said that the Commander asked Hawke to meet him in his office tomorrow to go over reports. Maybe the Commander does indeed intend to follow this up.” She turned to face the spy that had just climbed the steps. She gave a curt nod before exiting the door out onto the battlements. Her spy followed silently awaiting his next order. She leant against the low wall that overlooked the gate and the courtyard. Cullen crossed the yard, past the medical camp with the elf, Fenris, in tow.

“Follow the Commander, see if the elf mentions something of value, he’s presence here is suspicious.” The spy left, as Leliana watched the two men move around the open space. They were heading toward the stables. His horse! She’d forgotten they had taken his horse, she vaguely recalled there being saddlebags.

She looked around for one of her spies but she was alone. Fenris stopped at a weapons dealer, picking up a great sword that was half the size as the one on his back. He spun the two handed weapon in one hand. The Commander laughed and his hand moved up to what? Touch the elf? But they both froze. Fenris nodded and Cullen removed the massive great sword from his back.

 Weapons were restricted in the walls of Skyhold. Cullen and his men were allowed them, but guests were absolutely not. She’d have to remind the Commander during their next talk. Cullen held the sword, testing its balance. The huge sword looked more natural in a man like Cullen’s grip rather than in the slender elf’s. She wondered how he’d ever managed to wield it. It was near as tall as he was. The pair headed toward the training area, Leliana knew Cullen would be eager to try such a weapon and that would buy her some time to get to the horse.

As quietly as she could, she hopped the wall, using the holds she knew so well to drop into the courtyard below. No one gave her more than a passing glance as she moved between the stalls, past the area where Blackwall had been staying and towards the Horsemaster.

“Greeting Horsemaster.” She smiled a genuinely lovely smile, which the man seemed to receive well.

“Well hello, Spymaster, what can I do you for?” Horse Master Dunnet drawled in the flat accent that all Fereldens had.

“I was looking for our newest guest’s horse. My spies seem to think the Venatori may have slipped a tracking crystal into poor Fenris’s saddle bag. He has been such a bother to them after all, and they would likely want revenge.” The horse master looked alarmed, it was the reaction she had wanted. She continued. “I figured that I should handle this personally, in case it was a false alarm. I wouldn’t want to concern the Champion and his friend, should it be nothing.”

The horse master nodded. “Very well, what can I do?”

“Forget you ever saw me, it should take but a moment and should Fenris come for his horse I want you to say, truly it is a lovely beast, I bet he flies like a raven. Those words exactly and I will be gone. It is likely nothing, but one can never be too careful, now can we?”

“Can do, sister.”

Leliana nodded and continued into the stable. Finding the Tevintan thoroughbred with ease. She hopped the gate and the horse barely flinched, though it watched her wearily. It was very well trained, she noted. She set to work there was only two bags and the first contained, a half-eaten loaf of bread, a change of clothing and cloth and polish. Nothing at all to reveal why Hawke asked him here. The next bag was much the same. A book, a flask of wine, and one of water, a small bag of grain and a crumpled up but still neatly folded letter.  Bingo, it had to be the letter from Hawke. She opened it and let her eyes scan the paper. It was indeed from Hawke, and it did tell her why the elf had come to Skyhold. It was what she was looking for, only it had not been what she expected.

_Fenris,_

_I know you are angry right now. I can practically see you glowing from here. And I know you will probably hate me for doing this but, I had to do this alone. Carver is my responsibility and I won’t risk you without cause. This wasn’t something I wanted to do, even as I’m writing this, I’m looking at you sleeping so peacefully that I’m not sure I have it in me to hurt you like this._

_I needed to go, this isn’t about you, this isn’t even about me, it’s much more. The warden that helped Carver through his joining is in trouble. He needs my help. I won’t tell you more, only that if you try and find him, and in turn me, you won’t. Trust me on this. You’ll try, I know you will but save yourself the effort Fen, you will be chasing ghosts. It was easier to hurt you by leaving than to fight you trying to get you to stay. I needed to do this alone._

_I can’t say when I will return, or if I will return at all, so I just wanted you to know, these last few years together. Hunting and killing slavers, harbouring runaway wardens, and just spending time with you have been near perfect. The stuff of ballads really._

_The news is not all bad, I left you the key to the Amell estate and a letter to give to the Dwarven bank allowing you access to the Amell accounts, should you wish. You will have to share that one with Carver though I’m afraid, and I’m sure he’ll be all pissy about it. It’s stupid I know, but they are yours if you want them._

_Seeing I am excellent at killing things, and also pretty good solving other people’s problems, I am hoping this issue will not take long to resolve and the reason for this letter will be moot. I can’t seem to put what I need to say in words so save me rambling on further, I’ll just say this. Should I see you again, I hope you forgive me._

_You mean the world to me Fenris,_

_I love you._

_Forever yours,_

_Garret._

She’d been so foolish, of course that was why he’d come. She’d known, even before Hawkes, and later Fenris’s arrival that The Champion’s elven companion was also his lover, or at least they had been lovers. She’d figured it out upon meeting them in Kirkwall. Hawke was a smart man, ambitious and a powerful mage but did she really believe that he had an ulterior motive for telling them what he’d found? No, after all he was one of the good guys. Deny it as he did. Maybe it had just been as he claimed. He needed resources, Skyhold had them. Not to mention the Inquisitor and the Inquisition owed him a great debt for his help with the Wardens. It was a smart move to call in favours, especially from people as powerful as the inquisition. The world was theirs at the moment, there was nothing out of their reach. She sighed and put the letter back right where she had found it.

“I am inquiring after my horse?” That voice, it was him. She slipped out of the stable as quietly as she entered. Once out in the open, she was concentrating more on the stable, and Hawkes motives than on where she was going that she nearly walked right into Cullen.

“Leliana?” she’d startled him, and she cursed herself for not concentrating on her surroundings. That was a rookie mistake. She’d fire any one of her spies for less. “We were just on our way up to see you. I wanted to tell you I have received the reports Hawke requested and have my scribe copying them as we speak. There is little to go on really, more of a confirmation Hawkes information source had been correct. Have you had a chance to have the spies look into it? I know that it is busy, but this could be big, Maker, this could be huge.”

“I have.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “A former Red Templar, the Ferelden circle. He showed up at the rebuilt Chantry in Lothering. He was stationed there before the conclave, protecting mages that were helping with the rebuilding efforts. Claims he has no memory of the rebellion, the breach, or ever taking Red lyrium. Chantry sisters in Lothering confirm that he was indeed among the red Templar ranks and not merely a deserter. My spies are capturing him for questioning.”

“Can you belay that order?” Cullen wasn’t looking at her, and Leliana could practically see his mind working overtime. “I may know this Templar, and if he really has no memories as he claims it might be possible to convince him that I am still a knight captain. I was sent to Kirkwall because of the promotion. Maybe I could get him to submit, willingly. It would be a farce but, it risks nothing. If I should fail, then your spies can do as they wish. I can’t imagine what he must have been through. I should like to spare him anything else if necessary.” He looked up. Brown eyes compassionate. It was not a word she would have used to describe the commander when they had first met. He’d been jaded, angry, though she knew he must always have been, she’d never say compassionate. She’d not known what to think of him at first. Cassandra had recruited him after hearing about his role in the rebuilding of Kirkwall’s Templar order and Circle. 

He had also been in the very first stages of lyrium withdrawals by the time he’d arrived at Haven, so that probably hadn’t helped the situation. She wasn’t sure she was okay with the Commander travelling to Lothering alone. It wasn’t exactly safe, and they still needed him far too much to let him take that risk. The inquisition’s forces needed him. But she knew that one way or the other Cullen would go. Out of all the people she worked with Cullen was the only one she could believe could fool her long enough to be out of her reach before the truth come out. He knew how she worked, and she him. It was the reason she’d been so worried when he’d come to her with this information in the first place.

She nodded, “Very well Cullen. I will send a raven at once, but should this Templar slip away…” she let the threat hang, they both knew how important this lead was, there was no room to screw it up.

“Understood, Thank you Leliana, I will come see you tomorrow after I have worked out what our next step should be.” She gave a quick nod as Fenris come to a stop next to him. He had a saddlebag over his shoulder and gave a curt nod of greeting. He’d look much the same as she remembered. Maybe slightly older, though it was harder to tell with elves. They didn’t age like humans. He wasn’t scowling at her this time, so that was an improvement. 

She glanced at the Lyrium scars on his chin and arms. She’d made note of them the first time they’d met, but she knew little more about them than what Varric’s Tale of the Champion told.  There was sharpness to his eyes, an all seeing quality. It intrigued her, though not a rogue she believed that he’d make an excellent spy.

“We must get back to our tour, it seems,” Cullen said with a small smile toward the other man. Fenris nodded and Leliana took that as her cue to leave. She turned her back, intending to enter through the kitchen, check up on a few informants when the elf’s voice stopped her dead.

“Next time Spymaster, ask. I’d be happy to empty them for you.” His voice wasn’t accusatory, nor did it sound angry. It did hold that certain distaste that she’d noticed he used when talking to people he didn’t know. The raw edge of distrust. It was a good trait to have, but Fenris was clearly a very intelligent man.

“Very accommodating of you. Do drop by and see me soon. We have plenty to discuss.”  She glanced back just in time to see him nod his head in agreement. She could use him, oh yes did she have plans for Fenris.

 

 

Hawke

 

“Four schools, four! My father was furious. So I was somewhat of an apostate myself, as much as any Altus could be, I suppose.”

“An Altus isn’t a Magister?” Hawke studied the tanned Tevinter man sitting across from him. He’d been more than forth coming with any answer to any question Hawke could throw at him. He just wanted to know a bit more. Understandably Fenris didn’t much like talking about his homeland. Hawke was merely curious, that was all.

“No, it’s like a noble, we do love our fancy titles. Magisters are members of the Magisterium. There are fewer of those than one would expect. It is extremely hard to become one. And to be a Magister of any worth one must be born into the position. Each Magister gets an heir to their families seat. It is why arranged marriages are so popular in Tevinter. Breed the best Mages, the most powerful. As you well know, it’s all about bloodline.”

Oh, he knew alright. He was the apostate son of an apostate. And the Amell line wasn’t exactly magic free. His cousin Solona, or as she was better known now, the Hero of Ferelden, or Warden commander Amell, was also a mage, and on an entirely unrelated note, she too was also dating an elf. Hawke had met him, flirted a little, or maybe a lot and pretty blatantly too and probably would have even gone there had Fenris not been with them when they had met. What? He’d waited three years for Fenris to come to his senses and admit he wanted to be with him. Three whole years of pining and lonely nights. He’d been just about ready to jump anybody that showed the slightest amount of interest in him. He’d even considered taking Isabela up on her offer. He never had been with a woman before. The Maker would have been proud.  He was glad it had ended the way it had. He would have felt terrible knowing he’d done that to his own cousin.

Dorian was staring at him expectantly and he realised that he’d gone off on such a tangent in his own mind that he didn’t even remember what the other Mage had said to him, or know if he’d asked him anything in return. Hawke hated how his mind worked sometimes.

“So slaves, you have them right?” the question sounded less judgy in his head than it did out loud. Maybe it was his tone, he had somewhat of a personal stake in the topic after all, but he needed to know. He wasn’t willing to allow himself to like this man, or introduce Fenris to him if he was just another typical twat from Tevinter. Fenris would kill him, and Hawke needed a good reason to stop him. Apart from the fact that it was wrong of course, but that wasn’t exactly a good reason not to kill somebody. Killing was, after all, what he done best.  

Dorian looked more than a little confused but the soft chuckle of the inquisitor’s laugh seemed to shake him out of it. “Hawke’s mind works on a tangent, best just to play along, he’s easier to get along with that way.” Hawke nodded in agreement, after all he could hardly disagree.

“No, none personally. Always abhorred the idea myself but my family does own slaves as most families do. They are treated well enough though, unlike some I suppose. I know how you Ferelden’s love your slaves, but as I told Evelyn it isn’t nearly as bad as the stories say.”

Hawke gave a dry laugh and out of the corner of his eye he saw Evelyn motioning for Dorian to shut up. This was a subject Hawke could not be swayed on.

“I do, in fact, love a slave, well a former slave. He ripped his master’s heart from his chest and I helped him. He says otherwise, the evidence to the contrary is forever scarred into his skin. So forgive me if I don’t find that amusing.”

“Fasta vass , Hawke, I didn’t know. I was trying to lighten the mood. And to be fair you let me walk right into that one. You see I’m hardly a good example of Tevinter, or well depending on who you ask maybe I’m the best. Kaffas, I’m screwing the Iron Bull, I don’t own slaves and there is never ever a situation that calls for blood magic, ever. Does that cover what you were digging for?”

“The Iron Bull, big guy, bigger horns?” Hawke raised a teasing eyebrow. Dorian was right, he’d let him walk right into that one and it was unfair.  And Hawke knew who The Iron Bull was, he’d been part of the party that had fallen into the Fade with him, as had Dorian. Hawke wanted to not like Dorian, for Fenris, but he’d heard the man’s darkest fear. And it was the opposite of everything he’d just told him. Dorian was a good guy. And he was funny, flirty and powerful.  All of Hawke’s favourite things. “Well do tell, I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”

“And that’s my cue to leave. You boys have fun now. But not too much, Fenris does like heart crushing. Does it at least four times in the Tale of the Champion.”

“And that was only what Varric documented.” Hawke winked at the Inquisitor and she shook her head.

“I’ll really have to read this tale….” Dorian looked around the stacks as if he could actually pick it out from among the shelves. “I wonder do we have it.”

“I’ll save you the trouble. We started the Mage- Templar war, the end. Well, maybe there was more to it than that. Terribly exciting stuff. Lots of magic, demons, dragons, blood, abominations and explosions. A whole lot of me being outrageously charming and super awesome, naturally.”

“So it is mostly lies then?”

Hawke wanted to be offended but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Though everything in the Tale of the Champion had happened, it hadn’t always happened the way Varric told it. In it Hawke looked unstoppable, but there had been more than a few close calls in Kirkwall. If Anders weren't a healer, he’d probably be dead a dozen times over. He didn’t like to admit that too often seeing what Anders had done. Maybe it was good that was omitted from the tale.

“I admit to nothing, oh best thing about Kirkwall. Cullen not realising I was an apostate. It’s probably a good thing he left the order. He evidently wasn’t very good at it.”

“Now that’s not nice.” The inquisitor retook her seat, Hawke knew that would get her back. He wasn’t sure he was at the level where he was comfortable enough to be alone with Dorian yet.

“He once said these exact words to me. ‘You can’t treat mages like normal people. They aren’t like you or me.’ I swear it took every ounce of my willpower not to conjure a fireball, or a lights show and ask was he entirely sure about that. I mean come on, it wasn’t like it was a well-kept secret. I walked around with a staff on my back.”

“Ha, classic.”

“For the record, he knew. Okay, he told me all about you when you first come to Skyhold. He just thought it was best that he pretended not to know. That way his men couldn’t rebel against him hiring an apostate. Apparently he was all for arresting you the second you made it into the city but the Knight Commander told him to watch you instead.”

“Arrest me? Now I’m insulted, wait until I see that man. We will be having a very frank talk about his desire to put me in chains and his reasons for not acting on it.” The Inquisitor shook her head and laughed. But it was Dorian that spoke.

“You walk into his office and say that sentence all you are going to get Serah, is Cullen rubbing his eyes and muttering ‘Makers breath.’” Dorian’s Ferelden accent was near perfect and both Hawke and the inquisitor cracked up laughing. He could see that with such clarity he was sure Dorian was right, that was exactly what would happen.

“I’m here now, please refrain from using me as further topic of conversation.” All three turned at once. Hawke had to stifle his laugh. He wondered how much the two other men standing there had heard.

“Cullen!” the inquisitor’s already high voice octaves higher.

Hawke smiled at Fenris who stood a step behind Cullen glaring at Dorian. Hawke had forewarned him that there was the son of a Tevinter Magister staying in Skyhold. Fenris knew who he was looking at without even being introduced. The flare of his Lyrium tattoos told him so. Dorian, on the other hand, stared with open intrigue.

“Fascinating. It’s true, actual Lyrium embedded into the skin. I didn’t think such a thing could be done. Let alone have the person survive the process. The process evidently took great magic, utterly fascinating. I’m sorry, you must be Fenris I’m….”

“Pavus.” The name left his lovers lips as more of a growl than an actual word. Fenris gave the smallest incline of his head. A left over tendency from his days as a slave Hawke assumed. He hoped Fenris didn’t realise what he’d done. It would only make it that much worse. The entire library seemed to fall silent. Even the birds above them had stopped. Hawke stood, ready, just in case and even Cullen’s hand had moved to the dagger Hawke knew he had hidden under his cloak.

Dorian studied Fenris, slight confusion on his face. “I’m sorry have we met?”

“No.” again barely a word and Fenris struggled to keep his cool. Mages were one thing, he’d give them a chance to prove they weren’t all bad. But Teventer mages? Well, they were another completely. They’d only ever come across a few while fighting slavers. None of them had survived much past their meeting. “I’ve seen you before. Heard your name. Your mentor Alexsis knew my former Master. You would not have noticed me, I was merely a slave.”

“Fasta vass, Danarius’s slave, right? I remember you. You were much younger, he called you Little Wolf, which of course is Fenris in Elvhenan.” Dorian looked horrified at the memory and he bowed his head in shame. “Alexsis told me to not look at you. That you were…. Never mind. I remember the hair, that white shock, the chains, it was barbaric. You looked so beaten and I wished you’d look up. What happened to you was deplorable, know many of the other Magisters disapproved of what he’d done to you. He was the worst of us Fenris.”

That, despite its intentions, did not seem to placate him. Hawke knew better than anyone that Fenris didn’t want people to coddle him, pity him. He’d fought hard to break his master’s hold on him and he didn’t need anyone’s input on the matter. Any issue Fenris had because of that vile man was punishment enough. Or at least that’s what he told Hawke. Hawke tried to argue, even though the truth was far from that.  Blameless be the victim, though he’d never in a million years say that to the prickly elf.  Fenris sneered, clenched his fist then turned on his heels and stormed out. 

Hawke took off after him, not even giving the rest of their companions a second thought. He hit the stairs at a run taking them two at a time. Trying to catch Fenris. The other man had no idea where he was going, and Hawke figured that didn’t matter. He’d rather not have Fenris accidently kill an Orleasian because they looked at him funny.

Hawke had caught his lover by the time they had reached the bottom staircase. He grabbed his arm as he turned to walk into the circular room. The only item of furniture was a cluttered desk in the centre of the room. A glowing rune stone providing an unnatural light. Hawke barely noticed it with the slight glow of Fenris’ markings. He was used to it. Hawke gave a quick glance to the huge ancient Elven style murals on the wall, before the hot glow of Fenris’s tattoos burnt his hand.  Hawke pulled his hand away with a little yap of pain. He’d done that on purpose.

Fenris glared at Hawke, daring him to speak. Which was foolish because of course Hawke was going to talk to him. He hadn’t chased after him just to watch in storm off and get lost in the maze like halls of Skyhold. Yet for once Fenris didn’t give him a chance.

“I don’t need your reassurance Hawke. I know he was just a stupid boy and that it’s unfair to blame him for being born to a Magister. And I know he’s not Danarius. I know all of that Hawke, but that does not mean I do not feel….”

“I know Fenris, I wasn’t going to say anything. You are hurting, I am here for you. I’m always here for you. If you want to kill Dorian, and every other mage in Tevinter I’m not going to say that’s wrong. I will encourage you not to, of course. I do not enjoy the needless killing of innocents but I will never say that you feeling as if you need to is wrong.”

“Kaffas, Hawke…” Fenris grabbed Hawke and laid his head on his chest. His arms wrapping around his waist. This was probably the most alone they had been since he’d arrived at Skyhold. After he’d first arrived they had sat in the court yard and Hawke had told Fenris everything that had happened to him lately. He’d listened with quiet understanding. Hawke may have omitted his experience in the fade. The regret he felt, and fear. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. It already haunted his dreams and he refused to let it take up anymore of his waking world. 

He wrapped his arms around the slender Elf. Holding him tight, relishing in the fact that he was the only one that could. The light armour he wore was soft to the touch and Hawke recognised it as one of the sets he’d had Fenris made after they had left Kirkwall. He refused to wear normal clothes and light armour was better than nothing. Well actually, it wasn’t, but it was better for everyone else. Hawke was very okay when Fenris wore nothing. It was typical Free Marchers armour. Not in the least spikey. Though Hawke did miss the spikey-ness at times.

Hawke trailed a finger down Fenris’s bare bicep. The warmth of his skin was almost over shadowed by the hot glow of Lyrium. The slight burn of magic in his fingers was exactly what he’d missed. Fenris called to his entire body on a level Hawke had never experienced. His touch always made his Mana flare and thrum inside him. He made him feel powerful, wild and uncontrolled. Hawke tried not to mention the feeling he got when Fenris’s brands flared. Though he suspected Fenris already knew. As they always seemed to flare with just the right intensity to make Hawke weak at the knees whenever they were pressed together. He suspected Fenris liked having that control over him, though he’d never say it. Fenris just held him but Hawkes hands didn’t want to be still. He didn’t want the layer of armour between them, or the feel of prying eyes from above.

Hawke leaned down and found Fenris’s mouth with his own. He’d missed being able to do this. He missed being able to embrace Fenris after the thrill of battle and kiss him while both of them still thrummed with excitement from the fight. He’d missed holding the smaller man while he slept snuggled so close to him in their tent in an effort to keep warm. He’d missed Fenris’s sleepy voice greeting him every morning, and the soft press of his lips before he’d climb over him to start his day hours earlier than Hawke ever would. He’d missed the gleam in his eyes when he’d had his fourth glass of wine and that rare and lopsided smile. The feel of him in his arms, the warmth of him pressed against his body, that burn of magic. He’d missed this more than he’d let himself believe and now he felt foolish for almost throwing that away. Fenris pulled away, eyes hooded and partially covered by long white fringe.

“Perhaps we could continue this in your room?” Fenris’s already husky voice was like gravel and Hawke was ashamed to admit the perverse effect the sound of it had on him. It took every ounce of his already wavering restraighten to not sweep the other man into his arms and sprint to the guest quarters the Inquisitor had given him. Instead, he twisted his fingers into Fenris’s and gave his hand a small tug. Social time was over, it was time to be very anti-social. Possibly for the next few days. Because he wasn’t sure that once Fenris let him have him again that he’d ever be willing to let the other man go.


	5. Fenris

Fenris trailed fingers up and down his lover’s body. His guess that the other man had lost a lot of weight had been correct and the reality of it was almost shocking. Hawke was a big guy, muscled and strong. It had almost blown Fenris away when he’d realised the other man was a mage, because he’d looked like a warrior. Most other mages he’d met were lean, slender. But they never had the childhood Hawke had had. He was what people down south called a hedge mage. Unofficially taught in the ways of magic, an apostate. The man could fight just as well with a sword as he could magic any day, and that was only one of his more endearing qualities.

Fenris recalled looking over the man the very first time they had been together. Wondering how anyone could be so perfect. He’d been a little awestruck and knew from that day on that he’d never be able to un-see the splendour that was Garret Hawke. He’d more than once been caught staring at Hawke like a love sick puppy. He knew exactly what was under that armour and he had an incredible imagination.

Garret’s current state worried him. He’d never before been able to make out the edges of the man’s ribs, the sharp jut of hip bones or the concave indent of a stomach. It was not the Hawke he knew, and frankly he’d never thought he’d ever see it. It would be a cold day in the void before Garret Hawke skipped a meal, and he wasn’t exactly a fussy eater. Fenris and the rest of the party had once watched him wolf down a Dwarven dish in its entirety before turning and asking Varric what he’d just eaten.  He’d then proceeded to eat Fenris’s when he’d refused to. He knew the man had no cooking skill to speak of, but that had never been an issue because he wasn’t fussy. Fenris had never had to worry about his ability to take care of himself.

Hawke stretched and reached for the ale he had sitting in a tankard by his bed. There was an entire jug on his desk and Fenris wasn’t sure he liked the fact that Hawke now kept Ale within arm’s reach at all times. Hawke never was a big drinker, he’d only drunk socially, or with Fenris, who knew and would admit he drank entirely too much. But at least he was tasteful and drank wine. Never cheap piss worthy Ale. Hawke really did have no taste at all. Maybe all those years in the Hanged man had killed his taste buds. 

Varric had been right, Hawke was not doing as well as he let on. Fenris didn’t know how to approach the subject, but he knew he should. Hawke had always been there for him. Helped him in more ways than he could count and the only time Hawke had let him see weakness, the only time the other man had reached out for help was when his mother had been murdered. Fenris wasn’t sure what to do then as he wasn’t sure now.

“Hawke….” He stopped. He felt foolish asking this, but he had to. “Are you okay, really okay?”

Hawke sighed and finished off the tankard in a few gulps. Fenris hoisted himself up on his elbows, the sheet sliding low down his bare back. Hawke watched the sheet move in order to avoid his gaze. He half expected a sarcastic answer or a joke. He was so used to that, but Hawke didn’t say a word, not at first. When he looked up, Fenris locked eyes with that blue-grey stare. Eyes that told of everything they had seen, much more than a man of Hawkes age should have seen. Again he noticed that the other man looked older than his 37 years and he looked tired. Fenris figured he and Hawke were roughly the same age though he suspected that he may be older. He never had figured out how old he’d been when Danairous had done what he had to him, but that was years past. He’d not changed much physically in the time he could remember so he figured he’d been in his late teens, early twenties at the time. And elves were naturally more youthful, so there was a real possibility he was the older of the two.  After a long week of fighting and running he sure felt old, though, in the middle of action, he may as well be a teenager. Hawke was the same, he forever complained about some old injury he’d sustained but in the heat of battle there wasn’t anyone better to have at your side.  Fenris’s finger lingered on the long scar that marred Hawke’s stomach. He hated that scar, well he hated the memory it represented anyways. 

“I’m just tired Fen, so damned tired.” It wasn’t a lie exactly. It was evident that he was tired. But it wasn’t the whole truth either. He wasn’t going to get the truth from Hawke. He knew the other man sheltered him. Fenris was fucked up enough for the two of them so Hawke always took it upon himself to deal with his own issues. Though that wasn’t supposed to be how it worked. They were partners. Even if they never had actually sat down and talked about what that meant. Hawke, Carver and their friends were the closest things Fenris had to family. So he would find a way to help the man he loved even if that meant going to Varric, or even the Inquisitor for help.

“Then rest, there is a while yet until dawn. Even longer until noon.”

“Are you suggesting we sleep in until noon?” A small smile crossed Hawke’s lips. Hawke nearly always slept until noon unless someone woke him. In Kirkwall, he had Bodahn, Orana or Fenris. On the run, it had been Carver. Now though Fenris would let his lover sleep for as long as he wished. After all, they both needed a proper rest.

“You say that like you weren’t already planning to do that.”

“You know me too well.”

“I do, far too well.” Fenris gave him a knowing look, but Hawke only gave a faint smile and pulled Fenris into his side. Fenris wiggled out of his grasp and instead held Hawke. Hawke didn’t protest and snuggled deeper into the soft, warm bed. Fenris waited until the other man fell asleep before even attempting to try and sleep himself. Call him paranoid but a small part of him didn’t trust Hawke to be there when he woke up otherwise.

****

 

Fenris blinked the sleep from his eyes as he woke. Hawke had had nightmares and had woken him a number of times during the night. Not that he’d meant to, of course, Fenris hadn’t been deeply asleep. It always took him days to shake the habit of sleeping on alert like he did when they were in a camp. He’d rather be slightly unrested and safe than fully rested and vulnerable. It had saved them a time or two. And Hawke’s soft distressed moans were enough to send him on full alert. He’d never known Hawke to have nightmares. Hawke muttered something that vaguely resembled his name as Fenris sat up. His eyes were still closed and he knew he wasn’t even remotely awake yet. Fenris leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Good morning, Hawke.” Hawke smiled in his sleep and rolled over, which in turn had Fenris smiling. He slipped from the bed and gathered his discarded leathers. The morning was already warm and the sky was bright and clear. And he didn’t even mind the chill of mountain air, it balanced the sun somehow. Skyhold was a beautiful place.  He watched soldiers training in the courtyard and half considered joining them.  The sound of a bell chiming drew his attention toward the main hall. The entrance of which he could barely see from the window. The kitchen was open and that meant it was breakfast time. He grabbed a quill and parchment from the desk as he walked out. Careful not to spill the ink. He left Hawke asleep, as he usually did of a morning. The halls were quiet, but never empty. He’d yet to come across a private place save for Hawke’s room.

People stared as he passed though he paid them no mind. He was used to people staring and it truthfully didn’t bother him anymore. If he were more charismatic like Hawke, he’d probably even relish in all the attention and use it to his advantage. But Fenris liked the fact that most people left him alone.

He opened the door leading into the main hall. It was busier than he’d seen it before, but he figured that was because the soldiers were in the hall for their meal. He was surprised to note that his presence went largely unnoticed among the soldiers and he crossed the hall to the table near the fireplace, where he’d seen Varric hanging out when he and Cullen had come through the previous day. He knew the annoying Dwarf would be along soon and that was the best place to find him. Varric was a creature of habit, if he’d picked this as his spot, then it was his. He laid down his things before heading to the kitchen to find some food.

When he returned Varric was examining the quill and Fenris moved to sit the tray next to the parchment and took a seat.

“And these must belong to you, Broody?” Varric raised an eyebrow and Fenris gave a small nod of confirmation. He’d took a bite out of his toast as he dipped the quill in the inkwell. He hated writing. His handwriting was messy and his spelling was shot. Hawke was still in the process of teaching him, but he knew enough to get by, usually. Varric took a seat and watched him. Having someone watch him do something he knew he was bad at was nerve-wracking, but he tried to ignore him.

 

_Carver,_

_I have found Hawke and know little of his plans. Will update you soon._

_Fenris_

There. That would do. Varric laughed and Fenris glared at the Dwarf from across the table. “Find something amusing, Dwarf?”

“You have such a way with words. You have to be the only person who is a man of few words, even in writing.” Fenris felt his cheeks grow hot. He wanted to say more, but Carver was a blighted arsehole when he wanted to be and Fenris didn’t much feel like facing the younger man should his letter make no sense. The fact that it looked like it had been written by a child was already bad enough. He gritted his teeth trying to think of a response when Varric continued. “Broody, how about I write it for you. Hawke told me that…. Well, I think I’m more qualified. Besides I’ve been meaning to send word to Junior anyways.”

Fenris gave a curt nod and pushed the parchment forward. “Very well.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Broody, the Kings Speech isn’t your only tongue and seeing you were never taught….” The look Fenris gave him shut him up. He didn’t want people to know he was illiterate, well almost illiterate. “Okay, all I was saying it’s not your fault. No one blames you.”

Fenris finished off his toast as he watched Varric write. He had large, loopy handwriting. It was showy and over the top much like Varric himself. He’d often wondered if that was how handwriting worked. Hawke’s was slightly slanted, neat and large. He wrote really fast and often didn’t care to check if he’d made a mistake. It was very much like him, he always rushed headlong into situations with no thought for consequences.  He started in on the porridge before the dwarf spoke again. “It’s good to have you back Fen, Hawke missed you.”

“It’s good to be back,” Fenris replied between spoonfuls of the oats. He’d not admit aloud that he’d missed Hawke too, not to Varric. And he especially wouldn’t agree that he’d even kind of missed Varric. Even if he did still owe the dwarf 50 silvers.

“Did Hawke tell you what happened?”

Fenris put down his spoon and stared at his friend. “Mostly, he avoided talking about the Fade, you were there with him, what happened?”

“I dunno Broody….”

“Varric, please. I can’t help him if I don’t know the truth.”

“Makers Balls, he’ll kill us both for this.” He sighed and put down the quill. “We fell into the Fade, but where we landed was the realm of a Fear Demon, called the Nightmare. Hawke and Stroud were at each other’s throats because flashes into the Inquisitor’s memories showed us it was the Wardens that were responsible for the explosion at the conclave. Hawke was pissed off, he thought Stroud had somehow tricked him. The inquisitor broke them up, but neither of them was happy about it. Shortly after that was when the Fear Demon decided to delve into our heads and announce all our deepest fears to the world. It blamed me for getting Hawke in trouble again. Told me it was my fault he was going to die because I asked him to come, trouble was the damn nug humper was right. I did ask him to come. So when he said Hawke’s, I just knew it would be bad. His exact words were ‘did you think you mattered Hawke, did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city, how could you expect to strike down a god? Fenris is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about.’ I don’t think I have ever seen Hawke freeze up like he did. I thought maybe I’d imagined it because he said something like. ‘Well, that’s going to get tiresome quickly. ’ you know how he is, but his head wasn’t in it after that. None of ours were. We killed the son of a bitch, had to, to reach the rift. Then when we did finally reach the rift, most of us made it through safely.” He paused and looked away. Fenris could see how much this troubled him, but the Dwarf cleared his throat and continued.  “I got through and realised that only Bull, Dorian and I were standing on the other side. It was terrifying. The thought that damned demon was right.  Hawke, Stroud and Evelyn were caught on the other side by this creature. From what Evelyn told me there was only one way any of them was getting out alive. Someone needed to stay and distract the monster. Apparently Hawke told them to go but Stroud insisted it was a warden’s problem. There was no time, they were all going to die so Evelyn made the choice. Stroud stayed. Hawke blames himself…”

“He feels it should have been him who stayed.” The words tore deeper than anything Fenris had ever felt. He knew the truth in them even though they were only a guess.

“He left so quickly I never even got a chance to talk to him about it. He took the Warden problem upon himself to fix. I was relieved when I got a letter from him saying that he’d made it safely, then nothing after that. I couldn’t bear to tell you in a letter Broody because honestly I wasn’t sure if we’d ever see him again. You know Hawke, he doesn’t do anything small.” 

Fenris sighed, he knew Hawke to well. When they had met in Kirkwall, he held so much guilt for the death of his sister. But that wasn’t entirely his fault. His family had blamed him for her death also. He was the eldest, he was supposed to protect them. But it was that manner of thinking that Hawke adopted. It was his responsibility to save everybody and he didn’t handle it well when that wasn’t possible. He even held a small amount of guilt over Fenris killing his sister. He’d told him so, maybe he could have stopped him, but Fenris had already made up his mind. She was as bad as the rest of them. Sold out her own brother for power. After he’d apparently fought for her freedom. It was the reason he decided to keep calling himself Fenris even after he knew his real name. Because he wasn’t Leto anymore. Leto loved his sister, condemned himself for her freedom, but Fenris didn’t and he wouldn’t ever again.

“How am I supposed to help with that?” he muttered more to himself than Varric, but Varric shrugged anyway.

“Honestly Broody, I’m not sure we can.” Fenris nodded and pushed away his breakfast, no longer hungry. The thought that Hawke had come so close to leaving him for good, frightened him more than he realised it would. He stood.

“Give Carver and Aveline my regards.” And with that he walked off. He had a few questions for the inquisitor, even if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers.

He found the Inquisitor quarters with ease. A guard he asked pointed him in the right direction. It was early so he hoped she would be up because he needed these answers now. He couldn’t leave himself stewing over them all day. He ascended the steps. The path to her quarters wasn’t yet renovated, but he figured not many people sort her out here. Only those closest to her. He knew he didn’t count among that number, but he was set in his resolve. Something told him the Inquisitor wouldn’t mind.  He knocked on the door, he knew it was the door to her chambers from the instruction he had been given.

Footsteps, far too heavy to belong to the Inquisitor made their way to the door.

“This better be important Josie.” The deep Ferelden accent threw him and then he cursed his foolishness as Cullen pulled open the door. Cullen looked taken aback and Fenris averted his gaze when he realised the other man was indecent. Fenris may have had a quick peek at the broad expanse of smooth pale skin that was Cullen’s muscled chest, but that had been purely reflex. He took a moment to wonder at the distinct lack of body hair. From his experience humans, the males at least were almost as hairy as Dwarves. He looked up to meet his gaze. The other man didn’t seem to mind that he stood half naked in front of him, so Fenris would ignore it. “Fenris, is everything okay?”

“My apologies, I was looking for the inquisitor. I need to speak with her, could you please ask her to find me at her soonest convenience.”

“Very well I’ll…”

“It’s okay Cullen, he can come in.”  Called the feminine voice of the inquisitor. Cullen glanced over his shoulder before stepping out of the way to let Fenris pass. Fenris heard the door close behind him and Cullen motioned for him to proceed up the stairs. He gave the other man a small nod.

“I’m sorry to intrude, Inquisitor, I was hoping to speak to you away from Skyhold’s ears.” He looked up to see the Inquisitor leaning against a dresser. Her body clad in a light hunting armour. It was white and tan, and the scarf that encircled her neck was red. Very impractical colours for hunting he observed but as soon as the thought crossed his mind he knew that it didn’t matter. They weren’t going to be used for hunting. Cullen passed him and picked up a linen shirt off of the bed slipping it on. The inquisitor watched him as he gathered his plate in one arm and walked over to her.

“I, uh, should go.” He walked over to the Inquisitor and she threw her arms around him, planting a huge kiss on his lips. Cullen laughed as she pulled away.

“See you later?” she raised an eyebrow at him and he leaned in for another kiss. This one a brief brush of lips. Fenris turned his head away, doing his best not to intrude on their moment.

“Of course.” The inquisitor gave a small squeal and giggled. That caused Fenris to look back up and he watched as Cullen passed him, an enormous smirk on his handsome face. The inquisitor was blushing and she cleared her throat before looking to Fenris.

“It’s no bother Fenris, what did you want to talk about?” Fenris walked forward as the sound of Cullen closing the door behind him echoed through the large room. The inquisitor motioned toward the balcony and Fenris gave a small incline of his head as the pair walked out. The view was incredible. Clear sky, snow caps, and valleys as far as they eye could see. The Inquisitor leant against the railing and smiled at him.

“I needed to ask you something that will trouble me should I not know. It may not be important to you but when you were in the fade with Hawke, why did you save him. Do not get me wrong Inquisitor, I am grateful, but why save Hawke, when Stroud was probably the smarter choice?” He felt like a traitor for even saying that. He’d choose Hawke over anyone, even if it meant the fate of the world. But the Inquisitor barely knew Hawke, and Stroud was trying to help the wardens. Hawke had told him so much, he was probably the only one who could, yet she had let him die.

“Please, you can call me Evelyn, Fenris. But the answer I have for you may not be what you want to hear. Hawke is a hero, I have read the tale of the champion a hundred times. To me he was this beacon of hope in the dark times. A mage that sided with Templars to stop the fighting. He did everything he could to save the Circle in Kirkwall and him being there stopped the Templars from slaughtering a lot of innocent people. He proved that we could get along, and the Templars would listen to a mage. It was him that helped Cullen see that the Knight Commander had lost it. He’s a mage and him, you, Varric all of you, you guys changed the world.” she gave a small laugh and looked down.  “I looked up to him, you know, and when my own circle fell. That tale gave me hope that people could come to their senses and see that the way things were, weren't working, but that doesn’t mean they were wrong. Mages need protection, but they don’t deserve to be prisoners. Hawke knew that. He saw the good Templars did, even though he was an apostate.” She looked back up to him eyes bright. “If Casandra had succeeded and gotten him to be the Inquisitor we wouldn’t have had to fight this hard to be recognised. People trust Hawke. And because of that, because of who he is and what he stands for, I couldn’t let him die. Sure sacrificing himself to save everyone is as noble of an ending as any hero could ask for but Thedas has already lost so much. Right now the world needs Heroes and if Hawke being alive gives anyone who looks up to him, or believes in him hope, then we needed him. Stroud was a good man, and it wasn’t an easy decision. I didn’t want either of them to die. But a choice needed to be made. Also, I have a soft spot for Varric and he really loves Hawke, like a lot. Weirdly so.” She smiled and Fenris couldn’t stop the small upturn of his own lips.

“Yes they are very close, Hawke considers him family. He was very annoyed with your seeker when he found out that Varric had been taken against his will. It took three of us to talk him out of storming the conclave and demanding Varric be returned home.”

“Your man inspires such loyalty. The world would have been a darker place with his loss.” Fenris nodded. He’d never considered the effect of what they had done in Kirkwall had on other circles. Even if he did know it was their actions that had sparked the idea of rebellion. Kirkwall’s Circle had fallen to blood mages, yet Hawke had tried to save them still. He’d stood with the Templars, against his own people to save them from their selves. And for a time Fenris had thought he’d killed the abomination that had doomed them all, even though they had been friends. That had been a farce, though. Still, Hawke understood what needed to be done, and he done it. And here stood a woman who had taken what they had tried to do and applied it on a larger scale. Here was the place where mages and Templars fought, lived and died as one. They were brothers in arms and they were free. She’d done what Hawke had failed at, yet she still looked up to him. It was then that Fenris realised she had continued speaking, but he only caught the end of her sentence. “And he’s not at all like I expected. I don’t think anyone has made me laugh as much as him ever. The way Varric tells it you would think Hawke could kill you by just thinking it.” She giggled and Fenris smiled, if only she knew the truth. Varric was more than liberal with his telling of their adventures, but Hawke wasn’t always as placid as he seemed.

“Thank you, Evelyn, I am forever in your debt. I understand that your choice wasn’t for my sake, but I still owe you more than you could know. If there is any way I could repay you?” She laughed and patted him on the arm. He flinched but tried not to show it.

“Well, now that you mention it. I have it from a very unreliable source that you are somewhat of a mad man with a broad sword.”

He couldn’t help the small laugh at the explanation of his skills. “Some would say that. Truth be told I am a master in the art of killing with it.”

“Good, to repay me I require the assistance of your skills. I’m heading to the hinterlands to deal with some remaining rifts. You have experience fighting demons, and I could use another warrior, just for the day, it’s only a few hours ride from here, we should be back by nightfall.” Fenris nodded, it was the least he could do. If only to repay her for her kindness to Hawke and now himself. Besides it had been a while since he’d killed a demon. He missed it.

“Very well. But I warn you, I’m rusty when it comes to demons.”

“As long as you don’t get yourself killed, I’m okay with that. I know no one walks from a demon fight untouched, but I bring you back dead, Hawke would kill me.” She gave him another smile. “This will be fun, meet at the tavern in an hour. Bull is already there. So is Sera, they will be accompanying us. Thank you.”

Fenris gave a curt nod and turned to leave.

 

****

 

“Another Vint. Figures. So is it true what they say about you.” The Iron Bull sat back in his seat as Fenris stared at him. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Qunari. He wasn’t like any he’d met before.

“And what do they say about me exactly?”

“That you can go all ghostly and kill from the inside out. Freaky shit, can you avoid doing that around me. Bad enough we are facing demons don’t need weird ghost shit going on as well.”

“I’ll try, can’t promise anything. It’s second nature now.” Fenris wasn’t sure if he liked Bull. In a way he did, it was hard not to, but Bull’s cheerfulness was too cheerful. He was definitely ben hassrath. That was clear enough in the way he moved and watched everything, without others realising. Though Fenris noticed it right away, after all it was something he himself done. As for knowing he was ben hassrath, Fenris had seen enough to know. Killed more than his fair share as well, at his master’s order. He would have to ask Cullen if they knew, surely that wasn’t something that would have escaped their spymaster.

“Well, that’s a start. So you were a slave? You escaped I guess. Many slaves from Tevinter join the Qun.” Fenris knew that wasn’t a pitch merely an observation, but it still got his hackles up.

“Maybe I would have, had any of its agents bested me in battle and freed me of my master. But they didn’t. And I fought hard to earn my freedom. Why would I leave one master to serve another?”

“Whoa there, no judgments, just making conversation. How about we talk about that monster of a sword on your back. That thing is impressive, can I have a look?” Fenris nodded and pulled the sword from the sheath over his shoulder. It released with a satisfying hiss. He loved the sound. Bull fawned over his sword just as Cullen had. The weapon had served him well. Handcrafted just for him. It was one of a kind. His. The first thing he’d owned as a free man. The thing that had helped him fight for his freedom.

“Oh, great.” The voice snapped his head up and a tall, slender elf stopped near them. The woman was pretty, with short blonde hair and a scowl on her pretty face. The distaste was evident as she looked at Fenris. He crossed his arms and stared back defiantly. “Look, I don’t know you, but you look all elfy. I don’t want to hear anything about ‘our people’ right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Dalish.” She pointed to the Lyrium markings on his chin and neck as if that explained what she was talking about. She was clearly not Dalish, a city elf, but even still she didn’t seem like others he’d met.

“I’m not Dalish and I don’t have people. I couldn’t care less about elven history or the struggle of elves if I tried.”

“Tevinter, slave right? It’s all good yeah, most slaves aren’t too elfy. They are good people, you know the Friends of Red Jenny?” he’d heard whispers of such a person when he was a slave. How that if you asked for her help she’d give it in exchange for something. He’d not seen the point, he was like most slaves originally, he accepted his fate. It was all he knew, all he’d ever known. Freedom was something that hadn’t even crossed his mind until he had tasted it. “Don’t have many friends in Tevinter though, too many mages. I’m Sera, who are you and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Fenris, I came here looking for Hawke. Right now I’m waiting to fight demons.”

“Fucking demons.” Muttered Bull as he wiped Fenris’s blade over with a cloth.

“You want to fight demons, you daft? I do it because the Inquisitor is pretty and a friend. Bull does it for much the same reason. ”

“I like to kill things, and I owe the Inquisitor.”

“Oh, you’re the one from the story, right? Varric’s book about Kirkwall. Read that yeah, well I looked at the pictures, you’re in it right?”

“Perhaps.”

“No perhaps about it, you’re doing Hawke, or he’s doing you. Either way that’s why you’re here. Always wondered why Hawke didn’t go with that pirate, woof. I mean unoriginal right? He picked the broody elf. I would have gone with the slutty pirate any day, just saying.”

“Isabela’s not Hawke’s type.”

“Clearly.”

“Is there a point you were trying to make?”

“No, not really. Just thinking things. You know. I like Hawke, glad he didn’t die. He’s fun yeah.”

Fenris nodded, he’d been correct in thinking she was a little different. But at least she was honest. He appreciated honesty. And he knew for a fact Hawke would like this girl very much. But to be fair Hawke liked most people. Even some people who wanted to kill him. He was a strange man. 

He leant against the support to the stairs and took the wine the serving girl had offered him. It was cheap, but it was better than ale. Though it was marginally too early for wine, yet that had never stopped him before. Nor was it stopping Bull or any of the other patrons so he didn’t see the point in beating himself up. He’d need this, it was a long ride to the hinterlands after all.

 

 


	6. Hawke

            The light that woke him was bright, much too bright. Hawke blinked a few times and tried to ignore his slight headache. He knew for a fact that he’d not drank all that much the night before, but a hangover would be worse. He was drained and as he laid there, he could have easily fallen back to sleep. His sleep had been hardly restful, and he needed the rest. The sound of a bell chiming told him it was noon. And his stomach grumbled. It had been a while since he’d actually been hungry, yet it was also a while since he’d had a proper meal. Yesterday had been the first since before the fade. Maybe that was because he knew Fenris would lecture him. He’d been waiting for it, yet all he’d gotten was a question of concern. He could see how worried Fenris was, but he didn’t have to be. He was fine, a bit shaken but it would pass. He’d gotten over worse in the past.

            He dragged himself up, sore all over. With a sigh he gathered all the energy he could muster and put it into a healing spell. That spell worked well enough. His muscles stopped aching but the headache stayed firm. Though with that, his mana was near depleted and he felt empty. He used his foot to drag his nap sack closer. A wave of dizziness washed over him as he bent to retrieve what he was looking for. He looked at the small vial in his hand. He could practically feel it pulsing through the glass. The pull of it’s contents was almost unbearable. There was only a small amount left, and with each passing day he needed more just to stave off fatigue. With a sigh he popped the cork and closed his eyes before bringing the glowing blue liquid to his lips.

The second the refined raw Lyrium hit his tongue he wanted to gag. It tasted metallic and the burn of energy was almost overwhelming, but he made himself swallow. The effects were immediate, his whole body burned as it come alive. His mana flared renewed and his headache faded away. He hid the bottle back in his bag. He was going to need more. Thankfully there were plenty of Templars in Skyhold.    

He dressed quickly, deciding to go down to the hall to grab a quick bite. If that had been the first bell, he’d find Cullen in there with his men, if he’d managed to pull himself away from that desk of his. That man worked so damned much, Hawke got exhausted by just looking at him. He was surprised he’d found the time to win Evelyn over with all that he does in a day. Though Hawke knew she had probably pushed more than he had. He was happy for them. If any man ever needed a good lay it was Cullen. Maker, they should have met in Kirkwall. Would have spared a lot of Mages his frustrated frown. 

People greeted him as he walked the halls. Nobles with an air of importance. Serving girls with playful giggles as he flashed that roguish smile of his. People still even after all this time made a fuss when he was around. Even with what had just happened, he thought they should be fawning all over the inquisitor not him.

The hall was full to the brim with men in uniform. Ah, it was a sight he could get used to. He’d always been partial to a good uniform, a nice set of leathers, or some roughed up armour. Even on himself. He looked good in uniform so he could appreciate when others did as well.  He let himself look around as he strolled in, really look around. The place looked fantastic. He’d not even noticed that they had finished the renovation since his last visit and he’d been here a whole week already. Not that he’d spent much time out of the tavern this week, but he should have noticed. It was the type of thing he’d usually notice. The decor was Tevinter, he guessed, lavish and grand, but dark. He could only imagine how much that would piss off the chantry every time they come here. The throne, for lack of a better word, reminded him of home, it was distinctly Kirkwall in its styling, looked just like the one in the keep, but the windows behind it showed stained-glass trees, Dalish at best guess.  Yet the banners bore the inquisition seal, making the whole thing a big miss matched jumble that on a typical day would have driven him mad, but oddly worked .

He was so getting the inquisitor to decorate the Amell estate when he returned home. It needed some inspiration. He strolled toward the door that would lead him to the kitchen. Eyes on everything but where he was going. He walked into a wall. A fleshy, talking wall, wait a second. He stumbled back and looked up, and up at the huge shirtless Qunari. Maker’s breath he was big.

Qunari always made Hawke wonder, nothing he’d ever admit to out loud of course. Though that rush he got, especially from this one in particular was easy squashed. All he had to do was think of the Arishok and nearly dying at his hand and that usually took the fluttering from his belly. That was the one story of Varrics that most people doubted. But it had been true. He’d killed a man, larger than Bull in one on one combat and he was a mage.  Though it hadn’t been all fireballs and lightning raining from the heaven as Varric told it. He’d actually only survived the fight thanks to Anders and his impressive healing abilities.

_Pain, ripping, burning, searing pain. Was this real, how could it be real? He coughed, but his airways were wet, choking, he needed to breathe, but couldn’t. The sword, huge, taller than even him, pierced him right through his gut. It had hurt, but the pain was gone now, so it couldn’t be real, if it was he’d be dead. The_ _Arishok was wounded but he still stood. Yet Hawke was eye to eye with him. How? The man was twice his height. He looked down again. So much blood, feet not even touching the ground, maker this was real. That attack had come from nowhere now he was as good as dead._

_No, he refused to die. Not while the_ _Arishok still lived. If it was the last thing he done, which judging by the massive sword that was impaling him, it would be, he was taking this bastard with him. He called on everything he had, power filled him, a power greater than he’d ever been capable of before and lightning cracked as storm clouds covered the ceiling. Then a bolt struck them both. Pain ripped through his whole body as he clattered to the ground. The Arishok’s_ _muffled screams the only noise louder than the the crackle of lightning as it rained down from the ceiling over and over. The smell of ozone was thick as he somehow managed to get to his feet. He used his staff to help him stay upright, yet he still didn’t feel as though he was standing. The world was black tinged but he would see that bastard die, and he would die knowing Hawke still lived. Even if it was only slightly longer than he did. The Arishok dropped his weapon as the storm died. Blood seeping from burns and the smell of charred skin would have been sickening at any other time but Hawke only registered it as an afterthought._

_He was still finding it hard to draw breath. Each one was small and painful. Yet he tried to stand tall. He could feel the blood flowing out of him, feel the darkness creeping in, but he needed to see this. He needed to know he’d saved his city._

_The Arishok coughed a wet cough, blood splattering his mouth as he stared at Hawke with wide-eyed disbelief. “We will return.”_

_Somehow Hawke found it in him to smirk. “Somehow I highly doubt that.”  And the Arishok’s body went limp. Hawke noticed the other Qunari move, and he turned to watch them leave, but his time was up. His body gave out and the floor came up to meet him. His vision was a hazy black blur, and thoughts were thick and far away, but Maker he’d done it. The pounding of metal feet seemed to overwhelm him as the darkness did. Templars, about time they showed up._

_“Fix this, mage!” Fenris, he wanted to reach out, touch him one last time, but his body no longer responded._

_“I’m trying, Maker please don’t die on us now Hawke.”_

_“I’m warning you now mage, he dies, you die. I swear it.”_

It was then Hawke realised the Iron Bull was staring at him, looking a little confused. Hawke shook off the memory. That was another one that needed to stay in the vault of bad things Hawke never wanted to have to deal with again. He had a few in there after his adventures in Kirkwall. 

“You know Fenris once threatened a mage to save my life. The mage was already trying anyways, but it’s the thought that counts, you know.” Bull smiled and considered what Hawke said before holding the door open for the other man.

“Huh, met him this morning at the tavern. I believe that. Struck me as the type.” Hawke ducked under the enormous grey arm. Maker what would it… no, he wasn’t going to go there. He’d ask Dorian if curiosity really got the better of him. It probably would eventually, meaning he was either going to have to get Dorian really drunk, or actually befriend the man. “Would have liked to see him in action. Cullen dropped in last minute said he needed the Chargers, and me.”

“What do you mean in action?” Hawke slowed his pace as they descended the stairs. Bull stayed a step behind him.

“He didn’t tell you? Left for the hinterlands this morning. Demons I think, possible Venitori. Hear he likes killing Vints. Odd for a Vint.”

“Hinterlands? How long will he be gone? Is it dangerous? I haven’t been to the hinterlands since I was on my way to Crestwood to look for Stroud.” Hawke could hear the slight panic in his voice. It was irrational of course. Fenris was a big boy, he could take care of himself, but knowing that didn’t seem to help. After all, Hawke had left him to go off and kill slavers on his own. When he’d taken off to help the wardens. So why did the thought of Fenris fighting in a team of skilled fighters frighten him so much? Because he wasn’t with him.  That’s why.

“A little, but the real fights always are, am I right?”

He was being foolish. He was going to stop this now. Fenris didn’t need him, Maker that was not what he wanted to think. But it was true.

“That you are my friend, Damn I wish I could swear in another language, always sounds cooler. Because right now all the blighted curses in the maker forbidden void couldn’t help.”

“I could teach you to swear in Qunlat, first lesson Defransdim, second lesson Vashedan.”

“I’m intrigued, only the two? What do they mean?”

“Vashedan means crap, good old common one.” The Bull said as the pair stepped into the kitchen.

“And Defransdim?”

“Cock.”

“Oh, I like that!” Hawke realised as soon as he said it, how that would sound, but it was too late to take it back now. He felt his cheeks heat. He’d meant the words, not the object related to it. Though he liked that too. He supposed.

“So I’ve heard.” Bull winked at him as he grabbed a tray, chuckling softly to himself.  Huh well, that was interesting.  Hawke done the same, it was going to take a few minutes before he could look Bull in the eye again, without thinking untoward things. 

 

****

 

“Maker’s hairy balls! Hungry Hawke?” Hawke took a seat at the table Varric was sitting at. His hand stained with ink, quill still held tight above a pile of parchment. He was writing again, it was good to see. Hawke glanced down at his tray. He may have let his empty belly decide on what he’d wanted and the eyes were rarely a good judge of these things while hungry. But they had sweet rolls, just like mother used to make. He’d grabbed four. And to the Void if Varric thought he was sharing.

“Sweet rolls Varric, there is always room for sweet rolls. Have you learnt nothing in the time we’ve known each other?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to get between him and them things. Crazy Mage nearly burnt my face off.”

“I could have told you that Tiny. Hawke’s not friendly when he’s hungry.”

“I’m right here.”  He took a bite of the sweet roll and moaned. He grabbed the others and pushed the tray towards Bull. He was good with these. “Happy feast day, now you can never say I haven’t given you anything.” He finished the roll in two bites, they were just like his mothers. He had to tell Fenris. Oh, and Carver, in fact, he was going to write to him later rubbing it in his face. He’d hate that. Hawke so had to do it.

“Wow feel honoured Tiny, Hawke never shares food, unless he really likes you. He’s like a mabari only with fewer table manners.” Hawke glared at his friend as he took a long drink of his ale. Truthfully he never would have finished what he’d gotten anyway. “And Hawke, sweet rolls and ale don’t count as proper meals. Leandra would skin you alive.” 

 Again he glared at his friend as he took a defiant bite. That may be true, but he was a grown man. If he wanted dessert for dinner he could bloody well have it. It was better than the just ale he’d been having for the past few weeks. Baby steps.

“Aww, you care Varric, I’m touched.”

“Someone needs to care about you. You obviously can’t. Maker I need to keep you on a leash. Always running off to get yourself killed.” Varric muttered knowingly. Hawke finished his second sweet roll and realised that they were sweeter than he remembered. He grabbed for his tray, putting one of the rolls on Bulls tray with a pat on his hand before sitting the other in front of Varric. The tone of Varric’s voice was eerily similar to Fenris’s the night before. Hawke had to stop worrying the people he loved. He suspected Varric had talked to Cullen and knew what he had planned. Hawke would take him, but he didn’t want to put Varric in any more danger than he already had in his lifetime. Varric was his friend the only thing he was dragging him into in the future was the Hanged Man, or on occasion the Blooming Rose. Ale was better there.

Cullen, right. Hawke wolfed down the roast potatoes and the unidentified spiced meat that he’d grabbed because it looked nice. It wasn’t, tasted slightly of despair. Varric watched him with a raised eyebrow. Bull did also but it was open curiosity that lit his face. He chewed like a madman to get it down. Then pushed the tray away. He hated wasting food. Growing up, they had lived on the run, and been rather poor while doing it, Lothering was the first place they had had a somewhat stable life. Only because they had a farm and livestock. Nowadays, not counting their time in Kirkwall, most of the time he had to hunt for food and it really pissed him off when Fenris would throw his leftovers in the fire. Spot needed to eat as well, and like his owner he was always hungry. A part of him wanted to finish it, but there were more pressing matters. He needed to find Cullen.

“If you’ll excuse me.” His mouth was still half full when he gave a small bow and walked off.

“Strange man.”

“You have no idea Tiny, you have no idea.”

Cullen was rather easy to find. He sat among the soldiers seated at one of the bigger tables. Hawke walked over. The other man was too caught up in the playful banter to notice his arrival. He tapped the soldier sitting next to Cullen on the shoulder. She was young and also a mage, Hawke could feel the thrum of magic in her yet she had a sword at her hip and was wearing scout armour. The young woman stared at him with bright eyes, mouth partially agape. Hawke leaned in close enough that his breath was hot against her neck.

“Terribly sorry, but could I have your seat. Urgent business with the Commander.” The girl nodded, seemingly unable to find her voice. He stepped back and held out his hand to help her out of her seat. His little spectacle had caught the attention of a few at the table, but Cullen remained oblivious. She took the proffered hand and he brushed a quick kiss across her knuckles as he led her away from the table, before quickly taking her place. The men across from him stared at him like they had seen a ghost. He got that reaction sometimes. People here were still getting used to him.

Hawke put his elbow on the table and leant on his hand to stare at his old friend, well old acquaintance. He’d call him a friend now, but that hadn’t exactly always been the case. They’d only become friends after he’d become viscount. Cullen looked at his men, then turned to Hawke, jumping in his seat from surprise.

“Hello handsome, you wanted to see me.”  Hawke flashed him a debonair smile and Cullen sighed.

“Makers breath Hawke, where did you come from?”

That was far too good of an opening not to take it. “Good question, you see my mother met a mage. Handsome, rugged, and an apostate, much like myself, and fell in love. After one faithful night they decided to run away together to live in Ferelden. Nine months after that faithful night I was born. So Kirkwall I guess initially, though I was born in Ferelden….”

“I am aware of your lineage Hawke, I only meant…” he sighed and got to his feet. “Never mind, come, we have much to discuss.”

“Ey, ey Commander.” Hawke gave a sloppy salute and stood. Winking at the girl whose seat he’d taken and motioned for her to have it back. She’d merely stayed where he put her, odd, but who was he to judge.

He followed after the commander dutifully. Nerves coiled in his belly, or maybe that was the sweet roll, either way, he felt sick. He wanted this lead to be real so bad, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what Cullen had to say, he didn't know if he could take the disappointment.

 

 

 


	7. Cullen

Cullen held open the door for Hawke. The man was quieter than usual. He usually was only this quiet when he was lost in thought. So either he was about to come out with something that would probably throw Cullen completely or he was really out of sorts. He’d not said a word to him the whole walk. Not that it was a long trek but still, he found that weird.  He moved to his desk to grab the reports. He’d received copies of Leliana’s earlier and had already read them over. He’d even taken the time to devise a plan of action but he wasn’t sure why Hawke was doing this. As noble of a task as finding a cure was this wasn’t something that could be a secret if they found it, they would share it, too many have suffered because of the blight.

“The reports returned some interesting findings. I never asked before, but I would inquire of your motivations before we proceed.”

Hawke gave a dry laugh. “Not that I’m entirely sure they all deserve it, but the wardens should have a choice, they need this to be real, but more importantly, so do I.” Hawke looked up, his eyes shining with emotion. Cullen was sure he’d only ever seen this man so disconsolate once. In Kirkwall, when he chose the Templars over the mages. After when Cullen had asked him why, he’d said he knew how dangerous mages could be and that he’d hope this way he could at least save some of them, even if only from them selves. If he’d fought with the mages, they still would have died. Only a lot more would have followed.

Cullen would have called Hawke cocky at one time in his life but the man spoke truth. His men would have had to kill the mages and Hawke would have had to fight them, for his own freedom. With Hawke all who surrendered were spared. Not every mage had wanted war. It was an impossible choice, to this day Cullen wasn’t sure he’d made the right one. Though he’d proved to the entire of Thedas that Mages and Templars didn’t have to go to war, yet they had thought of it as quite the opposite. It was one of the few reasons he’d decided to leave the order in the first place. Hawke had helped him see just how far it had fallen.  How far _he_ had fallen.

“Carver is a Grey Warden, if you recall. I do it for him. I’m the reason he’s a warden. He caught the blight while we were fighting darkspawn in the deep roads. Anders stole the maps we’d used from some wardens, so we knew right where they’d be, it was his only chance. I couldn’t lose him. Not after Bethany. I gave him to the wardens to save him. But I lost him still. It was my choice, not his. I owe him a cure. That is why I brought this to you. If I thought I could do this alone I would have, but this is bigger than me.  It’s yours as soon as Carver is free of this calling. The inquisitions, the chantry’s, I don’t care who gets it. As long as Carver does. That’s my motivation.”

Cullen nodded. Hawke looked tired. The years of fighting, the weight of regret and the fate of the wardens were burdening the man. Cullen knew all too well. Fenris hadn’t told him much when they had spoken the previous night but they were enough alike that Cullen was able to dissect the true meaning from the elf’s words. Maybe that was the reason he shared as much as he had. He was hardly the most suitable confidante, but Fenris was also hardly the friendliest sort. He’d not have that with Hawke, they were opposites and Cullen didn’t even know where to start. Instead he turned back to why they were there, and what he had planned. 

They’d need to go to Kirkwall and retrieve Hawke’s brother, which would be their first priory. Then onto Lothering to speak with the former Red Templar. In the meantime Leliana’s agents would feed them reports. If nothing come from the Templars answers, he’d be brought to Skyhold and given to Dagna to study. Hopefully willingly but willing or not, if it was up to their spymaster he’d be dragged here either way.

“Hopefully the trail doesn’t go cold in Lothering. It’s not much but it’s a start. I’ll accompany you and Fenris to Kirkwall and from there we sail to Ferelden. I’m sure Varric will insist….”

“No, he stays. I won’t have him tangled up in this. I’ve dragged him into enough. He was caught in the cross fire at Kirkwall because of me, Cassandra dragged him here because she was looking for me. I’m done letting others bear my burden. I’ll see him safe, can you talk the inquisitor into making him stay?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, he could feel the tension building there already. “I can try, but I’m not sure even she could stop him.”

“Lie, if need be. We go to Kirkwall alone, only the three of us.”

“Very well, I’ll talk with the inquisitor but I make no promises. It will take a while for me to secure safe passage to Kirkwall, then to Ferelden. It would be best if we are not seen as agents of the inquisition but I’m afraid that may be impossible.”

“Get us to Kirkwall, reach out to the black emporium, love that place. The guy has power that’s other worldly. And don’t worry about Ferelden. I’m the Champion of Kirkwall, I can get us a ship and travelling undetected is what Fen and I do best. You’re in good hands Commander. When can we leave?”

“If all goes well I can arrange safe passage across the Waking Sea within the week. In the mean time I’d like to ask Fenris to help with training the recruits. He expressed interest and I could use the help.”

“Then ask him, I don’t dictate his daily whims.”

“I would also ask it of you. Were you not, um… well we have many mage recruits that would benefit to learn your style of magic. Though if you are not well, I would not ask it of you.” Cullen couldn’t say what he truly meant. The man looked unwell. And he’d rather him build his strength for the coming fight than use it in training. 

“I’m fine, though I doubt it is something that can be taught. My father taught me to control magic, I taught myself to use it. Often at great cost to myself.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Hawke I’m going to be frank, I won’t risk a drunk mage around my men. Though greatly appreciated, your help is not essential. If you choose to help, you would be held at the standard of any of my other officers. It is your choice Hawke.”

Hawke frowned, but it had to be said. He was still a mage, and Cullen knew first hand a dangerous one. He also knew firsthand what addiction felt like. He wasn’t sure how long Hawke had been drinking for, though he was sure the last time the man had been at Skyhold, he’d been stone cold sober.

“I will train one mage, he will train the others. He must already be a proficient fighter and have some skill with magic. Without these things it will be impossible to teach him anything in such a short time frame.”

“I will arrange it.” He felt like an arsehole but it had to be said. He had a duty to his men. And he would preform it. Hawke walked from the room with a small nod. He’d known Hawke long enough to know that man didn’t know how to stay offended but still, he’d not want someone calling out his addiction. Something even after all this time he still fought.  Hawke stopped in the doorway his hand on the frame, palm flat against the closed door, as if ready to push it open.

“You were in the Ferelden circle when it fell, in Kirkwall… how do you deal with what you saw?” the other mans voice was quiet and the question shook Cullen to his core.

“Anger, hate, distrust. Blame, always blame. I wish I had a better answer, but I don’t.”

“The fade, it was…. Never mind, I’ll do better.”

Was Hawke trying to open up to him, reach out for help. Cullen wasn’t sure what to do, it reminded him of himself. He’d reached out to Evelyn, in anger at his self for his weakness. He’d needed her to tell him not to take Lyrium. He respected her judgment and wanted help but was too proud to ask. Was this that? Hawke’s pride stopping him from crying out for help. Hawke slowly pushed open the door, the weight of their unspoken conversation still hung in the air and Cullen couldn’t allow that.

“Hawke!” the name left his lips with more emotion than he’d intended. The other man froze mid step. Cullen had to continue. “Should you need to talk, I am uniquely qualified to understand magic related horrors.”  

The other man just stood silent for what felt like a lifetime. Had he over stepped? Well yes he had, but he was trying to make amends by offering his ear. Maker he was no good at these things.  Finally Hawke moved.

“Thanks.” Then he left. Cullen wanted to bash his head on the desk. Thanks? That was it, thanks? Maker preserve him, why did he bother? He gathered the reports and tucked them under his arm. He had to insure they didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Hawkes assurance he could get him safe passage thanks to his repute had given him an idea. He was somewhat famous himself now.  The Military leader of the inquisition. He’d had his hands in more than a few dealing since they had started. Anywhere there men ended up was on his order. Anyone had a problem with it they dealt with him. He’d had a similar idea earlier but it was Hawke that pushed it in its current direction.

He tore from his office and crossed the yard with a purpose that he knew would draw attention of Leliana spies. At least that’s what he was counting on. She needed to come to him. He couldn’t risk it. He barely gave anyone a glance as he stormed through the main hall. his destination the war room.

“Cullen?” Josie stood as he passed but he didn’t say a word just kept walking. “Is everything alright. Cullen…” the door swung shut behind him but not before he heard that sweet Antivain accent say. “Get the spy master if you please.” The door opened behind him but there were two sets of footsteps that followed.

“Where’s the fire commander?” there she was.

He gave a dry laugh as he leaned against the war table and looked to the two women he’d started this with. “I needed to speak alone, I fear this requires discretion. I’ll inform Evelyn on her return, but it’s the pair of you that can help me. I need you to make it look like I am no longer part of the inquisition.  I wish to take on somewhat of a personal quest and fear that my actions could look badly on the inquisition. It must be well known that I am no longer a part of the inquisition.”

“Cullen, that is insane. What could you possibly do that would turn us against you. Our actions so far have been unconventunal if it is justified then I’m afraid there isn’t a thing we couldn’t do.” Josie tapped her ever present note board.

“That is not true. You are Ferelden, and I have friends in high places. Namely one mage that owes me quite a lot. And a monarch whose deepest secrets I’ve heard around a campfire. I could arrange it, but this will be no easy thing to come back from, you understand that, no?”

“I know what I’m doing Leliana. I’ll arrange for Bull and Krem to stand in for me. My second is also available to them. Bull was ben hassrath and Krem is a capable leader. Let Krem be the face and Bull the brawn. I do not do this lightly and only our inner circle will know the truth. Not my men, not your spies, no staff.”

“Very well, it will not take long to spread word around the nobles. And our field agents will be informed. Any communications will be directed at Hawke, who is widely known to be unaffiliated with anyone. He’s like a glorified mercenary, pay him enough and we could one day see him as our enemy. Do you have an actual plan Lilly, or should I just say there is discord and we grew tired of the commander’s brutish nature?”

“I do in fact. I will get Alistair to agree that Cullen was feeding information to an unknown source in his court and that he is actively is court and that he is activithat eer it was they were hidace.ullen might just be new enough to be safe. trying to find the leak on his end. It’s no secrets that the Ferelden’s aren’t our biggest fans. This will lead us to Cullen’s dismissal when his actions are exposed.  I will ask Solona to admit to finally being that source should we need to clear the commanders name. People trust her and the Commander and her have history, both being from the same circle. It will all be very convincing I assure you, if that suits you commander?”

“Thank you, I will use more secretive methods to secure passage to Kirkwall, and will inform Bull and Krem.”

“No need, I will bring them here, along with Harding, Cole, Cassandra, and Sera. You may want to consider telling Iselva, if you believe you can fully trust your second.”

“I do, include her. Until I am ready to leave, I believe it best to sow the seed of discourse. Leliana maybe get your spies to watch me, include some of the staff, I don’t know how that cloak and dagger stuff works.”

“Don’t worry Commander I am very good at deception. Josie will discredit you the second you leave. Of course she will make it seem like your betrayal was recent. What I’m concerned with is Evelyn. Your relationship is not a secret, it may reflect poorly on her.”

He sighed, he’d considered that as well, and believed he had a solution. One he wasn’t at all sure Evelyn would actually agree to. “Not if she is the one to throw me out. We’ll do what I hate more than anything. Make a spectacle, have her publicly call me out and arrest me. Get my own men to throw me from the gates of Skyhold. I’ll inform you when I am ready, but I do not wish you to inform me of when it will happen. The surprise will help. Hawke and I will organise to meet away from Skyhold. I will keep you both updated on our progress, Lilly will fill in the blanks Josie. Thank you both for this.”

“No Cullen, thank you. This will be fun.”


	8. Fenris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter digs a little into Fenris's past, mostly in the last part of the chapter. So it has reference to implied rape. Nothing graphic, but please skip if that is a trigger.

 

Fire, power, excitement. The rush, he loved the rush of battle. His skin tingled as he drew on the Lyrium again to move through a shade, slicing it clean in half in the process. The rift’s green glow tinting the white from his markings. The rift crackled and spat as he watched the shade dissolve into the ground. He glanced around as he caught his breath. Sara, Ned, the young guard the inquisitor had dragged from camp and Evelyn herself all stood breathless as the rift rived, threatening to spill more demons at any second.

Evelyn had explained to him that the demons draw on the power of the rift to get through. By doing this, the demon can come into this realm physically but doing so ties its power to the rift. Kill it and the rift loses power. The more they killed, the weaker the rift becomes. All they needed to do was wait until it collapsed, then she could close it. 

At first, he’d found it odd that the mark on her hand somehow drew the demons out. A rift could lay dormant for weeks but the second she come close, her mark would spark that baby to life. Some were even unable to remain stable unless she was near which was good for the people in the area, but must have grown tiresome in her travels. Though being able to make the demon gnawing on your friend disappear just by running in the opposite direction, could have its advantages.

Another crackle as more demons threatened to come through. He took a few deep breaths to calm the burning in his chest. This rift was relentless.

“Oh Maker come on!” Ned let off a string of curses as he readied his sword. A Ferelden accent slipping through. Apparently he was new, or that was what he’d told Evelyn when she accidently walked into the foolish boy in camp. He fought just as well as anyone Fenris had ever fought alongside. Which told him one of two things. Either Cullen was an exceptional teacher or Ned was lying. He knew which one he was more likely.  The boy looked up, met Fenris’ gaze and quickly looked away. It was passed time he and Ned had a chat. A deep snarl tore his vision back to the rift. That would have to wait until after they had closed this rift.

The sun was lower in the sky than Fenris had first realised when they walked back into the camp. By the time they returned to Skyhold it would be after dusk. He hoped Hawke was still up, and preferably sober. He instantly resented himself for thinking such a thing. He knew he could be self-righteous, it was part of his charm but when had that become directed at Hawke. The man to whom he partly owed his freedom to. He felt foolish.

 He readied his horse, checking its saddle and bridle. All unnecessary but it was a habit he’d picked up in Tevinter. Look busy and people usually ignored you. You could learn a great deal that way.  He said usually because today it seemed, at least, he wasn’t being ignored. He gritted his jaw when he looked up and Ned turned his golden gaze away. Unlike the boy he was much better at observing people without them knowing and he’d observed quite a bit.

For example, he learned Ned was lying. Firstly he was from Ferelden, no matter how well he pulled a Marchers accent. Secondly, the boy knew how to fight, but his stepping was off, and his ability to block was sloppy compared with his skills. He usually fought with a shield and a much bigger weapon. Thirdly he was younger than he’d claimed when asked, Fenris was positive, though he’d peg the boy no older than twenty, either that or he was of elven blood. Fenris studied him over the horse, sure to make it seem like he wasn’t. The fact the boy looked his way again told him he was successful.  High cheekbones, eyes slightly too large and bright to be considered human, yet small enough to not be considered Elven. Half-blood maybe, though he certainly looked more human.

The boy watched him as he brushed the Inquisitors horse, it was now or never Fenris had to know. He strode over to the inquisitor, past the boy who made a point of looking anywhere but at him. If he was a spy, he was a terrible one. But maybe that was his game. Tip Fenris off, get him alone. Fenris shook his head. He was being foolish again. No one was after him. He was a free man. Still the boy was suspect.

Evelyn smiled as he approached and Sera frowned. “Oh no, he looks all broody and angry. Do you know how to smile?”

“No,” Fenris replied not in the mood to entertain her at the second.

“No need to get your smallclothes in a twist,” Sera muttered as she walked off.

“Something the matter. I was about to suggest we head off. Long ride…” she trailed off when she realised Fenris had glanced over his shoulder at Ned. He could feel the boy’s eyes on him.

“I require a moment. I need to speak with Ned. I will return shortly.”

“Fenris…” he turned and she reached out to catch his arm. He froze and she dropped her hand just as quickly as she had reached out. “Please, is everything alright?”

“It is fine. This will take but a moment. Ready the horses?” she nodded and he turned again. This time making his way over to the young man who was now intently concentrating on his bridle. He grabbed the boys arm none too gently and dragged him from the camp. He’d seen a small cave in the cliff near the camp on their way in. Perfect integration spot.

“You, with me now!” he had the attention of the entire camp as the boy stumbled along behind him. He didn’t care.

“Fenris? Okay where are we going exactly?” the boy’s voice was higher than usual. His accent dropping slightly. In fear? Stress? Fenris couldn’t tell. And to be frank, he didn’t really care either. Both worked to his advantage really. He shoved the boy into the cave, only pausing long enough to send a glare at the other guards staring over his shoulder. They all looked elsewhere as soon as his head turned. He had a knack for that today. With that, he followed the boy in. He’d backed himself right into the cave. There was no other exit and the cave was no bigger than a few paces deep. So the only way he was leaving again was if he went through Fenris first.

No hesitation, Fenris moved knocking to boys knees from under him and grabbing him by the throat. He squeezed, not hard enough to choke him but enough to prove he was serious. He did, after all, want him to talk. He flexed the fingers on his other hand, readying to send it inside the boys chest should he try anything.

“Talk Ned, you have one minute to tell me who you really are and why you lied before I rip your heart from your chest. Go.”

“My name truly is Ned and I’m a spy.” The boy’s voice was hoarse, but he could still talk so Fenris didn’t feel the need to loosen his grip.

“Not a good one I see. Why admit it so quickly?”

“I’m new at this and you asked so nicely.”  The boy gave him a pained smile and for the briefest second, he smiled back. It reminded him so much of Hawke that he actually wanted to laugh. It was exactly something his smart-arsed lover would say in this situation.

“Who do you work for?”

“Sister Nightingale.”

“Explain.” Fenris dropped his grip and fell to all fours gasping for breath.  He rubbed at his throat. But when he straightened he didn’t bother to get up.

“She recruited me yesterday. Told me I was unassuming and that she needed a more visible agent. I was a Templar before I joined, defected from Ferelden after the conclave. Joined in haven. She thought the inquisitor could use my skills. I was told to figure out a way to join her party and keep her safe and report back if she finds anything of interest. Pay was good so I said yes.” 

“Templar I thought as much. You fight like you are used to holding a shield. You leave yourself open far more than someone of your skill should.” 

“Yeah I’m working on that.”

“Why lie, fake accent, scout armour, all that stuff about not leaving you post?”

“Thought it would be fun, not every day I get to be a spy is it. I’m pretty good at pretending to be a Marcher.”

“Not good enough, you drop your accent in battle. You should work on it.”

“I will, so I can get up now? The minutes up so I assume I get to live.”

“One more question. Why do you keep watching me? Leliana tell you to keep an eye on me too?” the boy looked down before he answered.

“No. I read the tale of the Champion and I had a brother in Kirkwall. Also a Templar, he died in the rebellion. He talked about Hawke in his letters. This untouchable apostate who walked around Kirkwall like he owned the place. So when the book come out, I read it. Then you showed up here and I recognised the name. Put two and two together. I just wasn’t expecting you to….” He trailed off then looked back up. “You’re very handsome, it’s distracting.”

“Oh.” It was Fenris’s turn to be lost for words. He wasn’t used to people showing interest in him. It wasn’t like it never happened. But he usually didn’t have to confront it. The last time someone had openly called him handsome in a conversation had been in Kirkwall when he’d first met Hawke. He’d laughed like a fool and blushed, been forced to clear his throat just so he could continue. Hawke had told him much later that he’d found it adorable, and that was the reason he went out of the way to trip him up. Fenris would have thought after ten years he’d be used to it, but Hawke always found a way to surprise him. Fenris felt his face heat. Most people found his appearance intimidating. It was, after all, the exact thing he was going for. Then there were the people like Ned, Hawke and Isabela who just didn’t seem to care and looked straight past his act. Though Isabela had never been able to trip him up. And he had found her attractive, though you’d be blind not to, really. Even Hawke had admitted to admiring her breasts and that was saying something.

Fenris rubbed the back of his neck. Knowing the moment had stretched far too long.

“I apologise. I’ll endeavour to be less distracting should we ever fight together again.” The other man laughed as he got to his feet and patted Fenris on the shoulder as he passed. Fenris barely flinched this time.

“Don’t try too hard. I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it. Take care Fenris, next time I’m in Skyhold you can buy me a drink to make up for it, introduce me to Hawke. Always wanted to meet him.”

Fenris laughed just a little. “I think I could manage that.”

****

Night had fallen by the time they reached Skyhold. Everybody had given him confused looks when he’d walked back into camp. The inquisitor had sighed and thanked the maker when he’d told her the boy was a spy for her spy master. Apparently once again Fenris was the last one to realise someone was coming on to him. He’d get better at it someday. And maybe he’d even get the chance to shut them down before they realised themselves he wasn’t interested. The ride back to Skyhold was rough. Ever muscle ached and every bounce in the saddle was hell. It had been far too long since he’d spent an entire day doing nothing but fighting and his muscles were all too happy to remind him of that. Kaffas, he was going to be sore in the morning. But the rush still hadn’t left him, he felt alive, even though physically all of them were doing everything they could to stay upright on the horses.

Did it say something about him personally that he enjoyed fighting this much? Maybe because that was all he’d ever known and really all he’d done since becoming a free man. He could have retired his sword and taken one of the many jobs Varric had offered him yet he hadn’t and he didn’t regret it either. He was a glutton for punishment, or maybe a masochist. It wouldn’t surprise him at all really. He could hardly blame anger anymore. He’d been angry for so long that it had become a part of who he was, of what he become, but that had changed. Slowly, but it had happened. He wasn’t the most agreeable person in Thedas, he was moody and judgemental and could be quick to anger but Hawke, Varric and their ragtag group of friends had taught him to laugh at himself. And it was something he did automatically now. Some may even accuse him of lightening up a little, but he’d deny it.

“There much be a better way to travel than by horseback. My butt is on fire.” Sera rubbed at her thighs as she walked alongside the inquisitor’s horse. Fenris had offered to return it to the stables along with his own. He planned on tending to his own horse tonight. He had killed its original master and effectively stolen it only a few months back, so the little things mattered if he wanted the beast to trust him. And behave as it was trained to. He’d stolen it from a magister working with a group of Venitori back when he and Hawke had hunted them. She had thrown her master in battle after the blighted fool tried to use magic on her to make her go faster. Fenris liked its spunk. She had not liked him however and had taken weeks before he’d even been able to ride the blighted thing without being thrown. Hawke however, the beast loved him. Nuzzled his chest, even let the man take a nap in saddle. Fenris figured it was because he was a mage. But Hawke insisted it was because he was irresistible even to animals.

“you're effective with that thing you know?” he knew the question was rhetorical but he replied anyway. He was sure she had something more to say.

“I am.”

“You’d make a good ‘friend’ if only you weren’t so glowy. It’s hard to hide when you light up like a feast day tree.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’ve heard of your ‘friends’ I was a slave remember. And I stand out, besides I’m dating a noble, arguably the most influential in Kirkwall. I’m nobody but because of him, I’m hardly invisible.”

“Yeah but despite Hawke being all loud and… gah, he’s good people. Met a couple of Dwarfs, the boy was creepy.” She paused and shuddered. “They worked for him yeah. Had nothing but good words. Gave them a roof, paid well, treated them like family. He remembers where he comes from. Hawke is little people at heart. Not so sure about you, though. You’d make a good friend, true, but maybe also a real target one day.”

Fenris gritted his teeth at the veiled threat. That was the real reason she’d brought it up. It was a warning and it took everything thing in him not to react to it. That was not the way to repay Evelyn for her kindness.

“Make no mistake I remember where I come from. I have no choice but to remember each time I catch my own reflection.”

“See that there is your problem. You’re so efly, I was right you know? You may not be Dalish but you think like one. They are so focused on their pasts and all the injustice done that they can’t be happy in the now. Yes, you were a slave, yes your life sucked, yes your master was a piss-bucket, but he’s dead isn’t he? Stop using that as an excuse and sit back and think what you have in your life now. Don’t become him to escape him.” She walked off muttering something else to herself as the horsemaster took her horse.

Fenris was still stunned into silence when the man returned and he handed over the reins without a second thought. His horses fussing pulled him together. Danairous had been dead for years. He wasn’t a slave and never would be again. He needed to let that go. As strange as she was, Sera had a point and he would start by moving out of that Hightown mansion he’d been squatting in for over a decade now. If Hawke would allow it maybe he’d move into the Amell estate. Though seeing the man had practically given it to him, he didn’t think that would to too much to ask. It was a big step but one they should have taken years ago. He’d been so foolish.

He grabbed the saddlebag and found the brush. It had been a long ride. His horse deserved a good brush down. All the thoughts of Kirkwall made him homesick and that made him smile. He’d never had a home before. He remembered the day he arrived in Kirkwall. He’d been their weeks before he’s first met Hawke.

_The city of chains, fitting place for a former slave. Fenris mused as he looked around the gallows. Templars patrolled the open area in force. Eger to prove the few mages that were around that their jailors still held their leash tightly. Tranquil sold their wares, explaining their items in the dry, emotionless voice. Fenris almost felt sorry for them. Almost. The ship he’d stowed away on had brought him here, this wouldn’t be his first choice but it was only a matter of time before the hunters followed, so it hardly mattered where he landed. Besides his master liked Kirkwall, seemed fitting he be the reason he returned._

_Three years running, three years fighting slave hunter after slave hunter, staying one step ahead of his master… former master. He was no longer a slave and he would no longer run. Fenris stared up at the gigantic bronze statues of slaves in their chains. And he rubbed at his throat unconsciously. The memory of what that felt like was all too real.It was only a threat to these mages, a show of times past but to him, it was a reality. He dropped his hand as anger boiled within him. No one held his leash, and no one ever would again. This time, he glared at the weak statues, furious at what they represented. They were not him. His master would come and this time, Fenris would kill him. City of chains, prepare yourself, he was going to stay a while._

He’d really not liked Kirkwall at first. But he had landed in the gallows and lived in Lowtown for a while. He’d lived in mansions as long as he could remember, though no room had ever been his. In a twisted kind of way, he’d lived well above his means, a product of never being allowed to leave his master's side. Even still Kirkwall’s Lowtown wasn’t a place he wanted to stay. But the Hanged Man did have some of the nicest rooms he could afford.

It wasn’t until he’d met Hawke and the people who would end up being a family to him that he’d actually started to enjoy it there. Great, he was a Marcher after all. If out of nowhere he realised something. Today exactly eleven years ago, he’d met Hawke. It had been about this time when he’d first laid eyes on the man as he talked to Anso in Lowtown. He’d been with Varric, Carver and Aveline and Fenris knew with one glance that Anso had made the right choice. His quick peek had only been brief because he had little time he needed to get into position.

He chuckled to himself as he worked on the horse’s mane. Eleven years ago, yet it was as clear in his mind as if it had been yesterday. He’d thought that maybe it would fade with time, but Kirkwall always brought back happy memories for him.  Even still he could remember little of his life before his marking. Only that he’d once had hair so dark that it would rival Hawke’s in colour. He considered once or twice dying it but he didn’t see the point. Leto had dark hair, Fenris didn’t. He was the man he wanted to be and he saw no point in changing.

It took him a little while to ensure his horse was properly taken care of. But just after the onset of dark he’d finished and filled her feed bag with some oats the Horsemaster had given him. It was quite in Skyhold of a night. The vendors had all closed for the evening and only a few guards patrolled the grounds. The stray person wondered between buildings but their trips were quick and hurried like they feared some danger hidden in the dark. Fenris strolled, something he didn’t get to do too often. What the other seemed to fail to see was that Skyhold was probably the safest place in the world right now and they needed not to fear the darkness while within its walls. Not that he was one to fear it at all. No was it the darkness that should fear him.

Music filled the open area coming from the tavern. The door was open and light spilt from it along with the sound of laughing and plenty of people talking. Letting his curiosity get the better of him he made his way over. The tavern was full to bursting with the most diverse crowd he’d ever seen. That’s what he liked most about the inquisition. Elves shared quarters with humans, Templars fought alongside mages. Nobles slummed it in a dank tavern, well that one wasn’t so different for him he did spend all his time with Hawke. In these walls, they were all the inquisition, nothing more nothing less.

He pushed his way in to see Cullen, Hawke, Bull, and scout Harding sitting behind the bar. The crowd around them were calling their names. Over it, he heard Varric voice. Taking bets, “who feeling lucky? Curly’s odds are twenty-three to one.”  Fenris made his way through the crowd to the dwarf and crossed his arms over his chest as a bartender placed a pint of dark, almost black ale in front of each of them. Followed by four more. Maker, a drinking contest. Who in the void thought this was a good idea?

Fenris gritted his teeth. This was not healthy and of course, Hawke would be all over this. The man could never turn down a challenge. Arm wrestling, bench pressing people, dumpling eating. You name it, Hawke has probably been challenged to a contest involving it. It had become a running Joke in the hanged man on a Thursday night before all had gone to the void. Challenge Hawke to anything and if you won, he’d buy you drinks for life.  He only lost once and that was to Varric. In what they had most eloquently dubbed the bullshit contest. ‘You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Hawke,’ Varric said as he’d called him on his lie. Hawke had pouted for three days. He didn’t even make it to Varric before a voice stopped him.

“Give a man a little inside betting knowledge. Hawke talks a big game but Bulls a big guy. How’s your man hold his liquor?” Fenris turned and snarled at Dorian, who actually backed up a step knocking into a serving girl who spilt drinks all over Krem.

“Not now mage.” He turned and shoved his way to Varric. Uncaring anymore. He was sure his Lyrium was glowing. That would explain why people seemed to get out of his way.

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Varric. Someone was answering for this. Varric turned and jumped when he saw Fenris, that easy smile of his slipped in place. Master of bullshit.

“What is the meaning of this?” Fenris pointed to the stage. For the first time, he was grateful the bar was full and Hawke couldn’t see him. Back here in the corner. “Whose idea was this? Huh? His? Yours? Whose?”

“Calm down Broody, Hawke’s just letting his hair down. He never could turn down a challenge. It’s…” Fenris cut him off.

“Nice, is that what you were going to say. How nice this is? Maybe, just maybe, this is what he’s been practising for? Kaffas Varric why didn’t you stop him.”

“When has Hawke ever listened to me? If you think you can stop him go right ahead.”

Fenris swore, long and loud in Tevene. The words in the king’s speech escaped him as they did from time to time when he was mad. People moved away. He heard Dorian gasp then laugh and Fenris turned, glared and told him to go fuck himself in fluent Tevene before turning back to Varric and composing himself. “Maybe I will.”

He turned toward the bar determined to go up there and do what, pick a fight? In front of all these people. Air their dirty laundry out for the word to see. He’d have to. It wasn’t like asking nicely would work. He paused, hesitant. He didn’t want to fight Hawke, they were barely back together. And Hawke needed him. Varric caught his arm and dragged him to the stairs to the left. He pulled from his grip but for once it wasn’t the grip that bothered him.

“Leave him be Broody. This is not productive sure, but I haven’t seen him smile like that since Kirkwall. Tomorrow morning when he’s suffering from the world biggest hang over let him have it. Tell him he’s a fool, and that he needs to stop. Maybe the pain will wake him up a bit. But for now, let him have his fun, he even talked Curly into the contest. Don’t know how, blood magic probably.” Fenris glared at him this was hardly the time to joke. “Okay, okay you’re sore, I’ll deal with Hawke he can stay with me.”

“No, he will return to his room. I will be waiting.” And with that, he stormed off heading for the other stairs and the door that lead to the battlements. Sera nodded at him as he passed and he took the stairs two at a time. Was he making a big deal out of nothing? He wasn’t sure. A voice in the darkness stopped him dead.

“He’s afraid to close his eyes, scared of what he’ll see, scared of what he’ll become. He needs to numb the dreams, the pain. If he does, for a while it’s not his fault. For a while he can forget. ” Fenris’s hand hovered over the door handle as he looked over his shoulder at the boy in the shadows. He’d not been there a second ago, he’d swear that corner had been empty. But he knew who he was speaking to, well, at least, knew of. People talked about the strange boy that appeared from time to time, only to disappear again just as quickly.

“Tell me something I don’t already know demon.”  The boy cocked his head like he was listening.

“He wants to do better,be better. Like me, he wants to help but all he does is hurt. He doesn’t trust himself not to get you killed, but he can’t bear the thought of you not being around. But he does help, he helped you.” The boy paused again cocking his head but this time toward him. “The chains are gone but I still feel them rub. Still feel them against my skin, hard, rough, painful. He turns my head, looking at the raw skin on my throat. ‘My Fenris, my little wolf. Why you fight your chains is beyond me. Come my little wolf, we’ll clean these up.’ Dirty, I feel dirty.”

The memory sprung forward in his mind and he could almost feel Danairous hands on him again. On his throat, on his chest, lower. His touch burned, it was painful. That was the first time he could recall ever being…touched. He felt sick. It had been twenty years since he’d even thought of that moment.  “Stay out of my mind, demon!”

“I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to remember. Here I’ll try again.” He stepped forward but Fenris stepped back. He lit his hand up in warning. He wasn’t sure he could rip a spirts heart out but he’d try. The Lyrium burnt hot on his skin and the spirt stopped. The boy opened his mouth to say something but Fenris was done. He was done with Varric, done with this conversation, done with the feeling crawling all over his skin. He turned and bounded up the few steps. He was too angry and charged to power down his Lyrium so instead, he powered it up, ghosting through the door, through another room and out onto the battlements all while completely incorporeal. The cool night air hit him like a blast as he pulled himself back together. He gasped and hunched over wrapping his arms around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold himself together.

He knew it was more than his body revolting to ghosting as he called it, he’d done that a few time now, usually with more preparation, but his body was used to it. Still he felt sick to his stomach and his skin crawled. He felt dirty in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He turned and kicked the wall as hard as he could letting off a string of curses in Tevene. He refused to feel this way, he promised himself that he’d never let anyone make he feel so helpless ever again. Yet one memory, from such a long time ago, paired with his frustration had done it. Even from the grave, his former master still had power.  He sat down letting the cool air wash over him. He’d probably catch his death, but at the present nowhere in this strange place felt safe to him. Not anymore.

“I knew I knew that voice. You swear a lot you know that right, even if you do it in Tevene.” Ned walked up to him this time dressed in guard uniform. He hadn’t known the young man had returned to Skyhold. He’d not come back with them. But then again he was a spy so he’d be good at moving unnoticed.

“What are you doing out here?” Fenris heard the shiver in his voice, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was from the cold.

“Patrolling the battlement. Night shift, lucky me.  This two jobs thing kinda sucks. You mind?” he motioned to the spot next to Fenris. Fenris knew he should send the boy away. He was hardly going to be polite company at the moment, but he found himself nodding. The boy clinked and clattered as he tried to sit in his armour.

“So why are you out here scaring the guards? Petrified poor Sally with your light show. She sent me to check it out. I mean if I were off duty I’d probably be in the tavern, looks to be the place to be tonight.”

Fenris scowled and the boy nodded like he could have possibly understood. “Hawke, Cullen, The Iron Bull and Harding are having a drinking contest.”

“I’d put my money on Harding. She maybe be small but dwarfs are study. But what I don’t get is why that would make you mad.” For a minute, he considered telling him. But then he realised this boy wasn’t his friend. He was a spy, he wasn’t going to give him anything.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’ll take a stab at it, correct me if I’m wrong.” The boy cracked his knuckles as if he was actually going to work some kind of magic. “Something happened between you and Hawke before he came here the first time. I saw you punch him when you arrived. I also know the first time I’d seen Hawke, he didn’t seem quite as drunk, as the second time I’d seen him. I noticed he does appear to drink a lot. Not that I watch him, well I do, only sometimes, when he’s not paying attention. But in my defence, it’s my job and he’s pretty fucking hot for an older guy.”

Fenris glared at the boy, but he didn’t feel it, he actually almost wanted to laugh. Hadn’t he done the exact same thing when they had first met, he knew exactly how marvellous Garret Hawke is.

“Down boy, I’m just kidding. I’m Garret’s biggest fanboy, trust me. But like I said the drinking is an unattractive trait. A recent one I gather. And you are annoyed both at Varric for letting that happen and at Hawke for being so stupid, right?”

Fenris raised any eyebrow. Colour him impressed. Maybe he hadn’t given the boy enough credit earlier. He was very observant. “Perhaps.”

“But that’s not all, is it. Seeing that you were in the tavern, and now you're hear, I’m going to take another guess and say you ran into Cole. He dug into your mind and pulled some horrible slave crap up in order to help you?”

“The demon has a name?”

Ned smiled and gave himself little congratulations at his correct deduction. “Knew it, yeah it has a name. Creepy little guy. Helpful on occasion I’ll give him that. But misguided as most sprits are.”

“You speak as if you know many sprits.”

Ned paused as if caught off guard. Then he shook his head. “I know a bit about them, he’s the first I’ve ever met though, I think. But he has the power to make you forget so who knows, right?”

“Right.” Fenris felt his brow furrow. He knew better than most when he was being lied to. It was a sixth sense that come from living in Tevinter for so long. Lies were as convenient as truths in the Imperium, why tell the truth when a lie was much more satisfying. But as far as he could tell Ned didn’t know it was a lie. Maybe he did and he was just that good, or maybe Fenris had trust issues. He figured it was the latter, not everyone was out to get him. Ned took his moment of confusion as a cue that Fenris wasn’t ready to talk and filled the silence.

“I can break it up if you want. Burst in and claim there is some big emergency. Cullen would have my arse, but I’d do it for the gratitude of a handsome elf like yourself. While I distract them all you can sweep Hawke off his feet and we can all meet back at his room where you both can thank me for my heroics.” Fenris couldn’t help the laugh that left him and for the first time he realised what it was that made him both so suspicious, yet so trusting of the strange Ferelden boy. He was Hawke. Not really Hawke,obviously but that attitude, the confidence, the single track dirty mind. He used flirting as a way to get people to open up, even when he knew it would lead nowhere. This boy could have been his lover twenty years ago. All charm and swagger. Fenris laughed to himself again at the realisation but the boy continued. “I may pass out just a little from excitement but go on without me, I’ll join when I wake up.”

“As tempting as that offer may be, I’ll pass. Thank you, that was generous.”

“Ah think nothing of it. Trying to make amends for creeping you out today. You attempting to kill me told me, I wasn’t exactly subtle with my admiration of you.”

“I’ve gotten the impression you are not capable of being subtle.”

“It’s just so tiring, I’ve never been good at it. Before all this I was a pageboy for King Alistair. My parents worked in the palace. My dad was one of Calian’s guards, my mum a servant. I grew up in that palace. They were both killed in the blight. The hero of Ferelden talked the king into taking me in as a page boy, maybe a squire when I was older. She said I’d be a knight one day. Then all this happened, the mages, the sky and the King, the man was the reason I believe in heroes, he done nothing. The sky tore open and he didn't do anything. The second I heard about the Inquisition I left to join them. Been here since Haven, even before the inquisitor herself. I believe whole heartedly it’s the little people that can make a difference.” The boy stopped and smiled at Fenris. For a second Fenris wondered why he was telling him this. He had no reason to share this information with him, nor had it been prompted but the conversation didn’t feel off topic so he knew it fit. Giving in he decided to ask.

“Why tell me that?”

“You don’t trust me, I know that. I lied to you when we first met, so I’m making it up to you. I like you. It’s not everyday people I admire try to kill me, then allow me to talk their ear off after it. Figured I owed you.”

“Very well, tell me this Ned, why join the inquisition when you did? Back then it was an upstart originations full of heretics, or so most believed. How’d you know it would become this?”

“I didn’t, not really. I wanted to help, be in the action. I wanted my chance to be a hero you know. I knew here was the best opportunity I’d get.”

“You kid have a severe case of hero worship.”    

“I grew up in the shadow of the hero of Ferelden, she taught me to fight dirty and Alistair taught me to fight like a Templar. She and the king showed me that heroes are only people who do things others aren’t willing to, no matter their motivation. Many heroes do heroic things for selfish reasons but that doesn’t make them any less of a hero. Solona and King Alistair fought a blight and killed an Arch Demon, not because they were wardens and they wanted to but because they were the only ones that could. Hawke fought the Arishok, not because he’s the Champion but because he wished to save a friend, and because he was the only one willing to. You’re not Hero because you escaped slavery or fought beside Hawke but because you fought for a friend in a fight that meant nothing to you personally. And finally the Inquisitor didn’t go to the conclave with the plan of saving the word, she was thrust into it and she alone was the only one who could. Normal people, who do extraordinary things.”

Fenris wasn’t sure he liked being called a hero, he didn’t feel much like one. Especially at the moment. What had he done for Thedas lately, hmmm? Killed a few Venitori and he’d only done that because he’d mistaken them for slavers. It was about his revenge, not anything else. But the boys sentiments about heroes made him feel better. Took his mind off things. He wondered what it would be like to live in that boy’s world. A place full of good people and high hopes. He’d gotten but a taste but it made him smile none the less. It even took a few minutes to realise he’d been lied to again.

“You told me you were a Templar, you would have been only a boy during the blight. I know Templars train from a young age your story makes no sense. You fight like a Templar, but you are to wilful, and old enough to be taken Lyrium but I don’t sense that within you meaning that you were never knighted into the order.” The boy smirked as he looked away. “You lied to me before, even though I was going to kill you, why?”

The boy laughed, a smile in his eyes when he turned back to Fenris. “You called me a terrible liar I wanted to prove you wrong. You hurt my pride Fenris I couldn’t have that. It was a half-truth. I did have a brother who was a Templar in Kirkwall.”

Fenris was impressed it wasn’t everyday people fooled him so easily. Nightingale did have an eye for talent that was for sure. Though the boy’s combat skill left things to be desired.

“Who trains you to fight?”

“Cullen mostly, but he lumps me in with the ex-Templars so it’s not much more advanced than I already know.”

“Dawn, the day after tomorrow, meet me here. I’ll train you to fight more fluidly. Teach you the grace you so sorely lack.”

The boy stared at him wide-eyed, shocked. It was the most genuine emotion that he’d seen on the boy’s face. “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but why, help me?”

“Repayment, you may not realise but I owe you thanks, you helped distract me.” It wasn’t a lie, the boy’s idealistic world did provide a distraction but that wasn’t the true reason he’d offered to help the boy. In truth, Ned intrigued him. He was a puzzle, and Fenris wanted, no needed to figure him out. He would and this would help. Men cannot hide the truth on the battlefield. It was something he knew all too well.

“Okay, thanks Fenris. Looking forward to it. Should be fun.” The boy looked over Fenris shoulder then sighed. “I should go, I’m on patrol. See you at dawn yeah?” he patted Fenris on the shoulder and Fenris gave him a small nod in return. He stared over the barely lit grounds of Skyhold as the sound of the boys footsteps faded away and sighed. He would sit here a little longer. He had nowhere else he wanted to be. 

 

 

 


	9. Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays everyone!  
> in the spirit of the holidays these next two chapters happened on the dragon age version of the holidays!  
> This chapter digs a little more into Fenris's past, mostly in the first part of the chapter. So it has reference to past rape. Nothing graphic, only his feelings about the ordeal but please skip if that is a trigger.

 

 

“Maker’s hairy balls it’s cold, you sure he went this way?” Hawke wrapped his arms around himself pulling the ill-fitting, fur lined coat tighter around him. It seemed to do nothing at all. He’d stolen it from Varric on his way out. So it was too short in the body, and not nearly wide enough in the shoulders to do much more than keep the top part of his back kinda warm. But it was better than the thin linen, short sleeve shirt he had on. Only just though, the sleeves were tight, and really only come to his elbows, he must look stupid.  In a way he missed his finery, there was never any room to pack it when one went adventuring. It was always so comfortable and warm. He hated the south and it’s cold. The sounds of the nice, warm tavern called to him but he ignored the siren, he wasn’t going back.  

“Yes, he hurts. Old wounds, deep as the Lyrium that marks his skin. Anger because hurt is weak, hurt won’t help but anger will. I’m sorry I was only trying to help.” Cole stood behind him quiet as a ghost besides his voice. He’d been creeped out by Cole the first time they had met, but it wasn’t the first spirt he’d met. He was a mage, he’d been meeting sprits his whole life. Some like Cole, others not so much.

“Thanks Cole, but if I walk around out here all night and he’s not here I’m going to be very angry.”  Cole didn’t reply, so Hawke stepped out into the cold wind that always seemed to blow over the battlements. Cullen loved it up here, so did Fenris. Cullen he understood. The man come from Ferelden, lived by a lake, so he was used to the cold. Besides that fur wasn’t just for show. Hawke had also, he supposed but that hardly counted because he’d hated the cold, wet, miserable weather when he’d lived here. It had been one of the first things that he’d liked about Kirkwall. It was mostly warm. Fenris’s love of the cold puzzled him. He wore little most of the time, and there wasn’t much of him but more than that he’d lived in Tevinter for a good chunk of his life. The naturally tanned skin was a dead giveaway. It wasn’t often you saw many tan elves, not in the Marches or down south anyways. Maybe he liked it because it was so different from his homeland, who knew. If he’d managed to figure Fenris out even a little bit in the time they’d been dating maybe they wouldn’t fight like they did. Okay, that was a lie, they still would, fighting, to them, was like foreplay. They both secretly loved it as long as it wasn’t serious.

Hawke conjured a fireball to use as warmth and light as he walked but he didn’t have to go far. A figure sat, feet dangling over the battlements not that far away. Another figure retreated into the darkness further down. A guard, Hawke figured. The sitting figure who he assumed was Fenris glanced in his direction and leaned back as if trying to get a better look. Hawke let the fire go out as he walked over and took a seat next to Fenris.

“Hawke?” Fenris sounded generally surprised and as he stared at his lover. Hawke gave him a warm smile.

“Cole said I’d find you out here. You okay?” he looked away his shoulders were shivering but his voice was steady. It was the only indication that he felt the cold. Hawke sighed and shrugged off Varric’s coat. Damn his gentlemanly tenderises. He draped the coat over Fenris’s almost bare shoulders and Fenris laughed and smiled at Hawke as he slipped his arms into the jacket. It wasn’t quite long enough for him either but at least it wrapped around him without threatening to split in the shoulders.

“I'm all right, why are you out here?”

“Saving face. Had to forfeit, I know when I’m outmatched.” Fenris stared at him and he didn’t even have to listen to Fenris’s next word to know the other man knew it was a lie. Both of them knew all too well that Hawke never ever gave up. Especially when his pride was at stake.

“Bullshit.”

“You wound me, and even after I gave you my coat.”

“This isn’t yours, Hawke.”

“Yes, but I stole it for myself, I probably should have at least stolen a human’s but Varric’s less likely to report me to the Inquisitor.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Hawke.”

“I saw you arguing with Varric. Didn’t hear why but I have a good idea. Got me thinking and I had a change of heart after the first pint. Thought, maybe, just maybe I shouldn’t be doing it. So I forfeit. I went upstairs to look for you and ran into Cole. He might have mentioned that he’d brought up something from your past that you’d rather forget. It was a no brainer really, you needed me more than the people in the tavern.” Fenris stared at him then raised his eyebrow.

“Foolish choice, I’m fine.” He looked away, his feet swung nervously and he hugged the jacket closer to himself. He always fidgeted when Hawke chose him over others. He always had and always would. No matter how much he’d proved to the contrary Fenris just didn’t believe that anyone would choose him if they had another choice. Hawke put his arm around the other man’s shoulder partly because he wanted to and partly for the warmth. Fenris relaxed into him and sighed. What he said next surprised him and Hawke hadn’t expected it.

“He’d decided to remind me of the first time I’d ever been with another man. Though it hadn’t been my choice and it hadn’t been pleasant. It was shortly after I’d gotten these markings. I had no idea who I was, only what I was told and I wasn’t exactly very happy being put in chains. My shackles tore at my skin, at first, left me raw, and bleeding. My master removed them, tended my wounds told me that the more I fought the harder it would be. He said….” He trailed off, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. Hawke knew that only happened when he was forcing words that didn’t want to come out, out. He’d only heard it happen a few times before, and it was usually when the memories were too painful for him. Hawke hated that Cole had brought this up, and they were going to have words about his helping and what he wasn’t allowed to help with. But for now, he waited and sucked in a breath. Fenris had never told him about this. Not in this kind of detail. He said Danirious had forced himself on Fenris many times but he’d never told him about it.

“Fen you don’t have to.” Hawke’s voice was soft and Fenris sighed.

“Yes, I do.” He looked back at Hawke, the fear in his eyes was something he’d never really seen. He looked so innocent, young and scared that Hawke wished that they hadn’t already killed the man that had done this to him, because looking at Fenris right then he wanted to kill him all over again. With his bare hands this time. He wanted to be the one to rip his heart from his chest and crush it. He could settle for Cole, but that seemed unfair. The boy didn’t know any better. “He called me beautiful, dangerous, fierce, his little wolf. When he touched me, I wanted to recoil, but I wasn’t allowed to say no. It didn’t matter what I wanted, only what he wanted, I was his, and it was his right. I was stupid, looking back now I’d had all the chances in the word to free myself, and every other slave he owned, but I’d never even considered it. Not once. Now I wonder how I never saw it, I’d almost forgotten what it was like, that… thing, made me remember something that I have gladly forgotten.”

Hawke pulled him into him, closer so that he held him in both arms. He needed to, he needed Fenris in his embrace so he could protect him. He’d always tried to understand why Fenris was the way he was. He accepted that he didn’t like to be touched and he’d never questioned it. The first time he’d tried, Fenris had grabbed him by the throat and snarled, and he’d merely tried to caress his cheek.

It was the first time Fenris had told him something like this without Hawke pressing him for information, which, admittedly, he did do on occasion. He wasn’t sure why he was being so fourth coming and now that he had told him, he didn’t know what to do with this information. Fenris pulled away from him, sighed then stood. He held out his hand to help Hawke up and Hawke took it, but didn’t let go once he stood. One day, Hawke knew he would work out how to handle emotions like a mature adult, but sadly that day wasn’t today.

“Feel like reading me a bedtime story?” Hawke gave him his most charming smile and Fenris laughed in that soft way that he always did.

“That might take a while.” Hawke overlooked the self-deprecation this time and this time only.

“Well, it’s not my usual bed time anyways.”

Fenris gave him a small smile and nodded as they began to make their way back to the guest room. Thankfully it was only a short walk through the library from the battlements. If it had been any longer, Hawke probably would have frozen. “New rule, every word you get wrong you have to remove an item of clothing.”

“And if I don’t get any?”

“Then I shall reward you. I’ll give you a hint. The reward may involve sex.”

Fenris laughed out loud and shoved him softly. Hawke remembered a time when saying things like that to him tripped him up. Had him all stuttery and cute. It wasn’t a protest by any means and Hawke couldn’t help but notice the smile didn’t leave his face.  

 

****

Two weeks past with no news of the progress of their plan. There was some unrest among the leaders, mostly involving Cullen but Hawke figured that was part of his grand plan. Cullen had mentioned they had decided to kick him out of the inquisition in order to make their mission more secretive. It would put them without the support of the Inquisition but Hawke wasn’t exactly disappointed. The fewer people involved, the better. If there was a way he could get rid of Cullen, he would, hell he’d even ditch Fenris if he thought he could manage that feat again and survive. He wanted to do this alone, just in case. It could be some kind of elaborate, and ultimately futile scheme to kill him. After all the messenger had said that he’d been told that the message in which he’d been given the tip-off in the first place was to go only to him. He’d not been openly searching for a cure, and hadn’t even decided that he wanted to try and find one until he was half way to Skyhold when he was reading the last letter he’d received from Carver. It once again reminded him that it was all Hawke's fault he was a warden. Ungrateful little shit, it was better than being dead, being dead was by far a worse fate but with the way Carver carried on you’d think not.

He put his feet up on the desk as he leaned back in the chair. Despite the fact he’d had to change his plans twice now thanks to Cullen’s mess, they had fallen into somewhat of a routine. Hawke had even been training a young mage in his wily ways. Ironically the young mage Cullen had chosen had been none other than the girl whose seat he had stolen the night Cullen had told him to sober up.

She’d spent the first few session fumbling and blushing until he’d talked Fenris into coming to help. Hawke couldn’t change who he was. Flirting come naturally to him, most of the time he didn’t even realise he was doing it anymore, but after she’d realised that she just wasn’t his type, something that Fenris helped demonstrate perfectly she’d started to relax and open up to him a bit. Which only served to make Hawke fall hopelessly in love with her. She was adorable, bright-eyed, bubbly, barely eighteen. Hawke wondered if she was too old for him to adopt, he adored her that much. She was also fast, fierce and skilled. With a little more training she’d be a force to be reckoned with. He was glad he could bring that out in her.

He opened the letter that someone had slipped under his door sometime that morning. He knew the handwriting anywhere and smiled. It hadn’t actually, technically, been addressed to him, but the chances were Fenris would get him to read it aloud to him anyway so…

 

_Fenris,_

_I’ll admit it was good to hear from you. At least I have one brother that cares enough to let me know they are still alive…_

Hawke smiled to himself. Things had never been overly friendly between Carver and Fenris. And he’d certainly never heard Carver refer to Fenris as a brother. That was cute. Their hatred for him must have brought them together when he’d left. You have to take pleasures in the small things he supposed. Hawke started the letter again, his mind unable to pick back up where it left off.

_… and I was happy to hear you found Garret. I assume since I’ve not heard of his death that you didn’t kill him as you said you would. Foolish on your part really, now we have to split that family fortune three ways. If you want something done right…_

_I was kinda glad to hear the pair of you would be returning to Kirkwall. The place is kind of dull without you guys around. No one’s trying to kill me, I haven’t been dragged off to the wounded coast five hundred times in a week, and the wardens haven’t even shown up yet. I know, seems impossible, but it’s boring here. The crazy seems to follow you guys. The second you return to Kirkwall they’ll show up I bet silver on that._

_I took your advice and took that job. It’s hard work and doesn’t involve me killing things but I can help Aveline and Donnic out with the rent and don’t have to wait in line at the Dwarven bank for hours on end just so they can confirm that I am Carver Hawke. It’s always puzzled me how they confirmed that, it wasn’t like they could contract Garret. Do they have a portrait of me or something? If so, you’d think it would be easier than they bloody make it seem. Robbing it doesn’t seem like a half bad idea now. I guess that’s one good reason to have Garret back. Everybody knows that bloody mug. He can get whatever he wants, wanker. You’re going to tell him I said that aren’t you? Well, you’re a bloody wanker as well._

_Seeing how I’m near positive Garret will read this, probably on your request, I’ll add my message to him here._

_Garret,_

_You bloody well better bring me some damned sweet rolls you tit. Don’t act like there is no way that can happen. ‘They’ll go stale.’ ‘There is no way they will last.’ Bullshit. You’re a mage. Figure it out, use blood magic, every other mage seems to, just bring me some damned sweet rolls. No excuses._

_Be well,_

_Or don’t._

_Carver_

Hawke laughed out loud, then covered his mouth as he looked over to the bed. Fenris stirred but didn’t wake. Fenris never slept in, ever. Until this morning, Hawke had thought him not capable of it. That fact that it was near mid-day and that Hawke was out of bed before him said a whole lot. He apparently needed rest. Hawke was going to have to have a word or two with Cullen about working his man so hard. Hawke had a little laugh to himself as he considered exactly how much sighing that conversation would entail if he said it just as he thought it, and took pleasure in just how red he knew Cullen would go.

Hawke lowered his feet to the floor and stood. He considered, for a second, waking Fenris, but decided against it.  He strolled to the window. The sun hurt his eyes, and made his head thump anew, but he squinted against it despite the pain. Skyhold was bustling. It was, after all, Feast day and the Inquisitor had opened the gates to all of the inquisition, their families and their allies for the biggest feast this side of Thedas. It was the place to be today it seemed.  Hawke grabbed the satchel he’d stashed in the corner. He’d used Varric’s contacts to get some special gift for all his new friends and seeing how, it was tradition to give gifts on Feast day, he thought he’d get into the spirit. He’d been dreading it a little, because as gifts were a tradition, so were pranks. Oh, he was staying as far away from Sera as humanly possible today. Lest he wanted a pie in the face.

He hefted the satchel onto his shoulder. The thing was heavy but he had a plan. His first was for his only student. He’d arranged to meet with her in the training yard for a celebratory drink to congratulate her on her mastering everything he had to teach. All she needed to do now was practice, and maybe one day, she’d be as good as he was. And he was already running a little late. But seeing how busy the place was, he figured she would hardly mind.

He found Mandy sitting on the fence in the yard. Dressed in her training leathers as usual. Her long black hair pulled back and platted and a smile lit up deep brown eyes. That smile only widened when she saw Hawke walking her way. She hopped off the fence and ran at him arms spread. Hawke felt his own smile grow as he dropped the satchel and bent to hug her. She was tiny, short compared to him, barely come up to his chest, so as he hugged her, he physically lifted her off the ground and spun them both around. She laughed as he put her down then kissed him quickly on the cheek, blushing. She still blushed around him. It was adorable.

“Happy Feast day Hawke, I got you a gift.”

“Oh, I love gifts. Is it new shoes? I really need new shoes. I’m sick of wearing boots.” She laughed again and pulled a small box from behind her back.

“Not shoes no, but more of something to remember me by. I know you are going back to Kirkwall soon so…” she passed him the box and he took it eagerly. Truth be told he loved feast day. And he really hadn’t expected this.  He pulled open the white ribbon and opened the lid. He stared at the chain in the box. Silver, thick and twisted with what looked like a small rune stone connected in the centre. This was a battle amulet, though one he’d never seen before. He pulled it from the box letting the chain fall over his fingers looking at the inscription on the rune stone.  It was beautiful yet practical, and he couldn’t accept this. They cost a fortune. He knew, he’d brought enough in his time to know a good one can be very expensive. “I got my cousin in the merchant’s guild to find it for me. It’s supposed to protect you from people who wish to do you harm. They are very rare, the rune is apparently hard to make. Seeing how much trouble you get in I figured you could use it.”

“Mandy, I can’t accept this,” He murmured not once taking his eyes off of it. He’d never seen one like it before and it pained him to give it up but he couldn’t keep it. He held it out to her and she closed his finger around it. Holding his hand in both of hers, looking up into his eyes.

“Hawke, I went to a lot of trouble finding this for you now you will take it, or I will kick your arse.” He laughed out loud and opened his fist to look at it once more. He slipped the amulet over his head still holding the rune. It was such a thoughtful gift. His emotions got the better of him and he grabbed her again, pulling her into a big bear hug.

“Come here you.” He squeezed her tight and returned the kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, really. Thank you.”  He let her go once again and she gave him a shy smile.

“Hawke you are going to make me cry, stop it.”

“You’re going to cry, girl please. I’m a grown arse man and I’m about to bawl. Would it be weird if I told you I loved you? Well to bad. I do, you are just so adorable, I want to kidnap you and take you with me. You sure you don’t want to come live with me in Kirkwall? I have an enormous house, lots of money, and everyone in earshot thinks I’m propositioning you now, so I’m gonna stop being so weird, okay?”

“You are weird Hawke, but it’s okay, I love you too. You’re like the big brother I never wanted.”

“And there you go reminding me of my own sibling, he doesn’t want me either.” Hawke placed a hand over his heart and sniffed. Mandy laughed and punched him in the arm. He rubbed at the spot as he reached down to pull out his own gift. Which was coincidently enough was amulet as well.  He smiled as he passed her the small box, and waited as she opened it. He might have spent a small fortune on it, but like her gift, it was as practical as it was beautiful. She stared at the amulet that could easily pass as a neckless with wide eyes. The gold chain was fine and woven in an elven style. Small jewels of varying colours were set along the chain. At its centre was a crystal which had been shaped into a rose. Though it was purple and very pretty, it’s wasn’t your ordinary run of the mill crystal. It was a focusing crystal and as long as she wore this necklace she’d never have to use a staff ever again.

“Make sure it stays in contact with you skin, wear it under your armour and it will focus your magic better than any staff ever could. You’ll be one of the few mages who can do this…” he conjured a fireball and sent it high into the air. It exploded into an array of fireworks, causing everyone around them to jump. “Without a staff, or whilst holding a sword.” He lifted his hand slightly and rubbed at his father's ring on his finger. The ruby crystal glinting in the light. Mandy’s eyes widened and then she smiled.

“I’d always wondered how you did it so well. Here I thought you were just insanely powerful.” Hawke smiled and put a finger to his lips.

“These types of things are highly, very dangerously illegal. And rare, very few people know things like this exist and even fewer know how to make one. So, our little secret huh?”

Mandy smiled but her smile faltered. “What will I tell the others? If they ask.”

“Tell them you slept with me and that was a token of my appreciation. That should shut them up. Apparently I’m a bit of a get around you see, slept with half of Skyhold already. Or so it’s said.” she wrapped her arms around him resting her head on his stomach.

“I’m really going to miss you, Hawke.” Her voice was so soft and it took him a second to realises she was actually crying. He felt his own eyes sting. Damn it, he was going to cry. He knelt down so he could be at her height and took her shoulders in his hand.

“I’m not leaving just yet, I’m only graduating you. Just because I’m not going to be your teacher anymore doesn’t mean you get to get rid of me that easily.” He hugged her again as she started to cry harder. “I meant it when I said you mean the world to me, Mandy. If you need anything, ever, be it tomorrow, or ten years from now you come to me. If you are ever in trouble, need money, protection, a friend, anything, I swear you need only to ask sweet pea.” He closed his eyes against the stinging. He hated it when people cried. “And if any boy ever breaks your heart, I’ll break his everything. Unwanted big brother guarantee.” She hugged him tighter and let out a sobbing laugh into his shoulder.

“I’ll hold you to that, Hawke.”

Hawke couldn’t help but smile.

 


	10. Cullen

 

“This is all well and good, but when is the gift giving. I’m sitting here with a distinct lack of gifts.” Cullen rolled his eyes at Dorian, who was seated opposite him at the table in the grand hall. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. He was so tired and despite his general love for the holidays, he didn’t really want to be here. He’d had a late night. Even slept in the room above his office because he and the inquisitor were ‘fighting.’ At least, that’s what they wanted people to think.

In fact, he’d gotten up only an hour or two after he’d finally managed to get to bed to make her breakfast in bed and have a chance to spend some time with her before the rest of the hold awoke. He’d served her completely naked, save the small white apron he’d worn at his waist. She’d loved it, he’d suspected she would. He’d also pranked her with a ring box, to which she’d freaked out and started apologising and telling him that it wasn’t because she didn’t love him, she did but… he laughed and she punched him very hard in the arm when she opened it to find earrings not a ring. It had been a good morning, but the day had gone downhill from there.

He hated sneaking around, and Leliana, even though she was only doing what he asked, was making it very hard to get anything done. Her spy’s ignored him, his men had started to notice the building tension between the advisors and were beginning to refer to themselves as his army, rather than the Inquisition's. He appreciated the loyalty but it was absurd. What needed did he have for an army? Unrest had started between his soldiers and Leliana’s spies. His scouts and hers were clashing in the field. It had begun to divide them and the entire hold was feeling it. He didn’t want this. It hadn’t been his plan and he’d done what he could to fix it, but until he and Lilly kissed and made up their forces were divided.

Then there had been today. It was supposed to be a happy day, a holiday but it had been formal greeting, after formal greeting and now he was sitting here in the great hall with his friends, in uncomfortable and itchy formalwear, starving and wanting to be anywhere but here.  It was Feast day, this was a time for family and friends, not dignitaries and nobles. At least he got to sit with people he could stand. More than he could say for poor Evelyn, who was up front with the very important people. Not even at a table herself. Just drifting through the groups.

“I got you a gift.” Hawke’s voice seemed loud, but it may have been because the man was sitting right next to him.

“Well hand it over.”       

“Can’t, it’s a bit indecent for polite company.” Hawke smirked and Dorian fanned himself. Someone really needed to separate those two. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to deal with them today.  

“Well, I do like the idea of you being indecent. Plans after dinner?”

“One more word mage and you die.” The entire table cracked up, Cullen included, which surprised even him. The overall rowdiness of his table drew the attention of most of the hall. Evelyn shook her head at them and their boisterous group, but he knew she wished she could join them. Hawke massaged Fenris’s shoulder and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Now, now no murder on Feast day. You know it spoils my appetite.” Fenris raised an eyebrow at Hawke and Hawke shrugged. “Okay, it doesn’t but he’s just too pretty to die.”

“Yes, I agree.  Much to pretty.  Smart man you have there. Handsome, charming, charismatic…” Evidently Dorian ran out of complementary additives to annoy Fenris with and just gazed at Hawke with fake longing instead.

“What did I just say?” Fenris lit up his Lyrium but they two men only laughed. This little game had been going on for almost a week now. The pair had originally started outlandishly flirting because the revered mother had been within earshot and they really hadn’t stopped. It had been yet another a headache he’d had to deal with. Evelyn had brushed her off, as she usually did when matters involved Dorian, so she’d come straight to him, spouting how the pair were basically knoodling in the library and that something needed to be done immediately.

Cullen could only imagine what they had done to work her into a state and if it had been anyone else but them, he would have assumed she was over reacting. But he knew both men well enough to know that they’d provoked her, somehow.  When he’d approached the pair they’d been sitting in ‘Dorian’s alcove’ drinking brandy but the way they had both laughed near hysterically when he’d brought it up told him more than he wanted to know. Neither one much cared for what the chantry approved of. And neither of them had a shred of shame between them.  

Though they both seemed to enjoy the way Fenris reacted though apparently Hawke knew he would. Bull, on the other hand, didn’t appear to care in the slightest. It wasn’t serious but that hadn’t stopped the rumours that he and Hawke were sleeping together from spreading like Andraste’s fire. It hadn’t even stopped the one that Hawke was sleeping with the girl Cullen had given him to train or any number of other people. Someone needed to leash that man. He was a damned menace, even though Cullen knew better than most he was entirely innocent, well maybe only on this matter. Hawke liked to encourage the rumours. He had a perverse sense of humour.

The pair continued their playful flirting while he tuned out, Bull, who was sitting next to Dorian, watched as Cullen drummed his finger against the table, trying to stem is annoyance.

“Problems Cullen?”

“No, this just isn’t the Feast day I remember as a boy.”

“Well, I dunno Commander. You have good company, hopefully, good food, gifts, and pranks. What more do you need?”

That was a very valid point, he couldn’t argue it but still it didn’t feel as it should to him. There were just too many people. “fewer Orleasians.”

Bull laughed and Leliana, who was sitting to his right, elbowed him in the ribs. “Hey!”

“No offence, you look ravishing today may I add Lilly.” Leliana smiled at him and nodded. He wasn’t used to seeing her so dressed up. Red dress, the material kind of looked like silk, but he can’t say he’d actually paid all that much attention. It was red, a dress and looked nice, that was about all he needed to know to make his compliment. He didn’t have the time, or the desire to study everyone’s outfit choice. Because if they were anything like him, the Inquisitor probably made them wear it.     

“I know, but thank you anyway Commander.”  

“Ravishing doesn’t even do her justice, have you seen her shoes?” Cullen looked to Hawke as Lilly pushed her chair back to show him. They were very sparkly and looked terribly uncomfortable. They were little more than straps, jewels and a heel. He didn’t’ understand woman’s footwear. What purpose did they serve, other than aesthetics? 

“Aren’t they darling? I found them in a small store in Val Royeaux. I had to have them. You know Hawke you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes.”

“Oh, here we go.” Cullen sighed and Leliana swatted him.

“Hush you. Civilized people are talking.”

“Do mine say I’m Cullen because I borrowed these from him. He may not know that, though.”

“I knew I’d seen them before, keep them, I hate the damned things.” Hawke looked down at the dress boots he wore and shrugged.

“They aren’t so bad. Evelyn said you’ve never even bothered to wear them.”

“They are impractical, boots are supposed to be sturdy, robust, not fancy and showy,” He grumbled. He knew he was letting his bad mood bring him down but he couldn’t help it. Leliana laughed and smiled at Hawke.

“See, you can tell a lot about a man by his boots.”

“Huh?”              

“Marker’s breath, when are they going to serve dinner?” he rubbed at his eye. The formality of everything was giving him a headache. He wished Evelyn had let him work the patrol shift as he’d originally planned. He could have been out on his horse, dressed in full plate and practical boots, patrolling the roads right now. Maker knows with the steady flow of people they needed all the help they could get. He knew the gates shut just after sundown but that only meant there was more work to be done outside of them.

“Someone’s in a bad mood today. Not one for holiday’s Commander?” Dorian leant on the table as he asked and Cullen sighed. He needed to try and enjoy himself, there was nothing that could be done about him not wanting to be here, so he may as well attempt to make the most of it.

“I’m just tired, forgive my rudeness.”

“It is already forgotten Commander.” Leliana gave him a sweet smile. The kind of smile that was far too sweet. It worried him. A spy scurried into the room. He weaved in and out of people with grace and skill and come to a stop next to Leliana. The spy whispered to her, and Cullen tried to hear what was said but wasn’t able. Leliana pursed her lips and nodded, before thanking the man. He left just as quickly as he arrived. Leliana sat for a moment deep in thought before she stood. Cullen stood as well out of reflex, ready, and keen to help.

“Is everything okay?” his voice almost sounded hopeful, it was just a little sad that he was hoping for a problem that could get him out of this.

“Everything is fine for the moment. Excuse me.” As quietly as her spy she was gone. Not even the heels of her fancy shoes clicked against the floor. Cullen sat once again his shoulder hunching slightly. Why couldn’t it have been his scouts?

The door to the kitchens opened and what seemed like hundreds of servants filed out, each moving to a different table, placing tray after tray of food at their centre. The smell that filled the room was truly amazing and Evelyn took to the front of the room holding a glass. The entire Hall fell silent as she spoke. The sight of it made him smile, just a little.

“My honoured guests, welcome to Skyhold. Today is a day for giving, and a day for sharing. This feast is my gift to you. To thank you, one and all for everything you or your family has done for the Inquisition. This is but the first of four Skyhold will be holding in order to accommodate all of our honoured guests. But don’t let me keep you from you meal too much longer. On behalf of myself and my inner circle. Happy feast day. Enjoy.” She took a seat on the throne at the front of the room as noise erupted all around. People laughing and talking drowned out all other sounds as people ate. Giving into his hunger, he joined the rest of the table as they all passed around trays, laughed and joked. He’ll admit it wasn’t quite as bad as he was expecting.

A group of bards played ballads while men and women of all ages danced, most just stuck to their seats and talked or exchanged gifts. His table was by far the loudest as they joked and laughed. He smiled along, not really joining any conversation while he ate. He was pleasantly full by the time he’d finished his plate and if he were forced, he’d admit it wasn’t entirely terrible. He sat back in his seat, only half listening to his companion’s conversations. He scanned the room for Leliana but she was nowhere to be found. He wondered should he be worried, then dismissed that thought as soon as it arrived. She was Leliana, there wasn’t anything that she couldn’t handle.  

Hawke slumped back in his chair and groaned. “I am stuffed, that was amazing. You can inform the inquisitor that I might never leave this place. And if I do I’m taking the kitchen staff. They cook way better than my brother.”

“Better than me?” Fenris raised an eyebrow at Hawke and Cullen couldn’t help but smile. He’d been in that situation before. He didn’t pity the man.  

“Do you cook me feasts?”

“No.”

“Then that is your answer. Cook me a feast then we’ll talk.”

Fenris muttered something in Tevene that made Dorian choke on his food. The other man coughed, grabbing for his wine as he tried not to laugh. Hawke sat forward quickly and fixed Dorian with a warning look.

“What did he say?”

“Sorry old boy, I must have missed it, terrible shame that.”

“I really need to learn Tevene.”

Cullen tuned them back out as he stood. The room was growing stuffy and he still wasn’t really in the mood to deal with his friend. He decided to get some air. He’d be able to check up on his men while he was out there. He gave Bull a small nod, seeing he was the only one that seemed to notice his departure and carefully made his way to the door.

Dusk was setting in, filling the hold with an orange glow as he stepped outside. The lower courtyard was filled with tents and bonfires as people laughed and danced. It seemed less crowded out here and that made the party merrier somehow.  He stood on the steps and overlooked the hold. Nothing immediately struck him as off, until there was a tap on his shoulder.

He turned and as he did, someone sucker punched him in the stomach hard. He was so caught off guard that he doubled over as his breath left him. All his years of training failing him as another blow landed, this time to his jaw. It sent him sprawling. Nauseous and gasping for breath he reached out and grabbed his attacker’s foot, tipping them off their feet. Moving on adrenaline alone, he grappled his attacker using his weight to get the better of the smaller man. As soon as they were pinned he raised his fist, then stopped to catch his breath. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw Krem pinned under him.

“Commander,” He said a broad smile moving to his lips. Out of nowhere someone grabbed his arm, and then the other and he was dragged backwards off of Krem. He dug his heels in to get purchase that he could use to his advantage when Bull stepped out onto the steps. Followed by Leliana.

“Easy now boys, don’t rough him up too much.” One of the chargers kicked at the back of his knees dropping him to the ground in front of them.

“Told you this would be fun.” Leliana stopped in front of him and he glared up at her. Blood filled his mouth and he spat to the side before answering.

“Was that really necessary?” his jaw ached, Krem had definitely knocked a tooth loose. He had a good hook that was for sure.

“It had to look real Commander. Tell me, if this was real would you have gone down without a fight?” he considered that for a second and decided he no longer wanted to be on his knees. He kicked back at the charger restraining his right arm. His flimsy dress boot connecting hard with his shin causing him to stumble and gave him the chance to break his arm free. The second the Chargers grip slipped he twisted his shoulder at a painful angle, pulled his feet under him and stood. With a small smile, he pulled back his fist and punched the man that held his other arm as hard as he was able. The man dropped like a stone and Cullen turned back to Bull, Krem and Leliana. He shook out his fist, his anger barely staying at bay. Leliana looked delighted, Bull was impassive and Krem motioned for him to bring it on. Cullen straightened his finery, then his jaw and took a deep breath. Maker guide him, he wouldn’t fight them. Anymore.

“No, but this is needless violence.”

“Not needless Commander, now brace yourself, we have an audience.” Cullen looked over his shoulder and realised his mistake as soon as he did. It was like he was hit by a dragon’s tail. All the air in his lungs left him, and his vision went dark as he crumbled to the ground. If he would have sworn if he could have, but there was no getting up from that. Krem grabbed his arm, and a spy that seemed to appear out of the darkness caught the other.

“Sorry Cullen, that’s probably going to hurt for a while.” Bulls said appearing in his line of vision as he was dragged to the main hall. He coughed and gasped for breath, the blood from his tooth tasted metallic in his mouth. And he was sure some of his organs were in the wrong place. He never ever wanted to get into a fist fight with Bull, ever. He looked up and the hall fell silent as Leliana walked in two people dragging him, like a prisoner behind.

He saw Hawke stand and leap forward. “What is the meaning of this?!” Magic already coiling up his arms but Bull put a hand on his chest and muttered something to him. That was all Cullen saw as the men kept dragging him forward. His question went unanswered as they pulled Cullen toward Evelyn. The look on her face was something he’d hoped never to see. Shock, hurt, betrayal. It seemed so real. She rushed forward but her Leliana motioned for her guards and they stopped her.

“What’s going on here?!” her voice echoed through the hall. The room was so silent that she could have whispered and still been heard. The two men holding him dragged him upright. He managed to get his feet under him but knew if his ‘captors’ weren’t there he probably wouldn’t have been able to stand on his own. Bulls punch had really done a number on his insides. He was going to need a healing potion, or ten when this was over.

“Inquisitor, members of the Bull’s Chargers, caught the Commander corresponding with Ferelden spies. There was an altercation when he resisted arrest. My spies have been watching the Commander for weeks and I bring him to you to be judged for espionage, my lady.”

Evelyn collapsed back into her seat, she looked like her whole world had just shattered. She was an excellent actress. “I…What would you have me do with him?” she looked to Leliana, who strolled to her side. Every step a cold and calculated.  

“Judge him, my dear inquisitor. Why wait with him in the cells, when you have plenty of witnesses here.” Evelyn nodded, straightened and crossed one leg over the other as she always did when she sat in judgment. His captors threw him forward and he went crashing to his knees. His split knuckles leaving a smear of blood on the ground.

“I give you Sir Cullen Rutherford. The leader of the Inquisitions military forces, and trusted advisor to you, my lady. His charges are espionage, a recent crime of an unknown motive.”

“Is it true Sir Rutherford, how could you?” her voice wavered and it broke his heart. He could see the tears threatening in her eyes. She didn’t want to be doing this. Even if it was fake, to him, it felt real.

“It is. The information I provided was not of a classified nature, nor was it harmful to the Inquisition. But it is true I will not deny the charge.”

She sat forward, her finger steepled in front of her mouth as she stared at him. Her eyes pleaded with him to forgive her, and he wished he could smile and reassure her.

“May I remind you that Sir Cullen is still legally a Ferelden citizen.” Leliana piped in when Evelyn said nothing. Finally, she nodded and dropped her hands.

“Sir Rutherford, I strip you of the position of Commander of the inquisitions military forces and exile you to Ferelden to face the king’s justice. A guard will escort you to Denerim.” Once again he was dragged to his feet, Krem shackling his hands in front of him. The inquisitor stood and walked forward. All eyes were still on them.

“How could you Cullen?” her voice was broken and pleading. She kept it low, but loud enough for all the people that he now realised that she’d sat purposely at the front to hear.

“I’m sorry Evelyn, I wish I could make you understand, but you won’t. I still love you, can you ever forgive me?”

Evelyn looked away, eyes wet with tears, then she slapped him. The resounding crack could be heard throughout the entire hall. The Chargers grabbed his shoulders to lead him away. Hawke rushed past him as he was dragged toward the door. He gave him and nearly imperceptible nod as he passed, which Cullen returned. Cullen watched Hawke shepherd the inquisitor into her chambers over his shoulder and the second he stepped out into the courtyard the hall erupted into chaos. Bull walked next to him and when he spoke his lips barely moved.

“Quite the show Cullen. As soon as we are out of range the boys will let you go and remove the shackles.  We’ll keep you company until Hawke arrives.”

 Cullen nodded using the gesture to hang his head. Maker's breath, it all felt so real.

 


	11. Fenris

 

It was as if everyone decided to talk at once. The noise was intense, it reminded him of battle. He, Dorian and Varric sat in silence looking between one another. Sera had disappeared at some point and he’d barely seen Hawke leave with the inquisitor. It was clear that at the very least the three of them hadn’t been part of that plan.

“Well, that was exciting.”

Fenris barely heard the dwarf speak over the commotion in the room. 

“So very Tevinter of them. Make me kind of homesick really.”

Fenris sneered at Dorian then regretted it. He and Hawke had talked about him not taking offence to Dorian’s love of their shared homeland. They’d had different lives. Maybe in different circumstances, Tevinter was a great place to live. Like if you were an Altus, Laetan, or even a Praetei, life in the Imperium must be great. Yet he’d only seen such lives from the outside and he learned to hate them all. Dorian was everything he hated about Tevinter, yet hating him accomplished nothing. One day he’d be a magister, it was how it worked and then all his talk of a better Imperium might mean something, assuming he doesn’t get lost in the lure of power and blood magic.

“Not nearly enough blood magic or virgin sacrifice Sparkler.”

“But the night is still young. Where does one find a virgin these days anyway?”

Fenris almost cracked a smile, almost. He stood and Varric followed suit. “You heading to the Inquisitor Broody?” Fenris nodded. He needed to go somewhere, and his choices were rather limited. He decided following Hawke seemed like the best course of action. It had yet to fail him so far. Varric nodded and even Dorian followed. No one paid then any mind as they slipped into the inquisitor’s quarters. They could hardly hear the noise from the great hall by the time they reached the top of the stairs. Dorian, who didn’t bother to knock, announced them loudly as they approached.

“Hope everybody’s decent. But know it won’t stop me if you aren’t.”

To Fenris surprise, it was Hawke who responded.

“Just get up here already, the three of you.”

Fenris figured he heard their footsteps. Fenris was a little proud, he’d been the one to teach Hawke how to count enemies and take their measure using things like footfalls and walking pattern. He’d become quite good at it, but it hardly took a master when there were only three people.

Hawke and the inquisitor were both sitting on her bed. Her head rested on his shoulder and his arm was wrapped around her. She looked a little heartbroken, but Fenris could only imagine what that had been like for her. He’d walked away from Hawke just as they had started to have real feeling for one another. At the time, it was more than he could handle. It was what he regretted most about their relationship. He’d been lucky that Hawke was too stubborn to give up on him. When that man wanted something, he got it, but he knew how easily things could have been different. Matters of the heart were difficult for everyone.

“Are you alright?” his voice was soft and he almost didn’t ask it. He wasn’t sure he knew how to respond if she said she wasn’t but the question left his lips before he was able to stop it. He’d become caring. When had that happened?

“As fine as anyone would be I guess. Hawke helped, I’ll admit he’s very cuddly.”

“That’s me, providing hugs for the needy and downtrodden. It’s a gift, some mages use lightning, I use the power of love. And lightning, I use lightning a lot.” She laughed and hugged him tighter. Hawke joked but the man was good in these situations. He always knew what to say, or how to act to make someone feel better and he never failed to make you laugh when you needed it. He’s not sure he’d be the man he was today if he hadn’t had Hawke as a friend in the beginning.

“Curly will be okay Eve, he’s a tough one. It may have been a rumour but I heard that he took down four of Bull’s Chargers before they dragged him in.”

Evelyn laughed out loud and Fenris rolled his eyes. It had happened mere minutes ago, there was no way he’d heard any rumours yet. But knowing Varric that little tidbit was about to become rumour, if not straight out fact. He did love his stories.

“They didn’t need to be so rough. Cullen is a man of honour he would have come quietly.”

“Yes, but that was so much more exciting my dear inquisitor. What better way to get Orlesian tongues wagging.” Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. Much to Fenris’s surprise, he looked uncomfortable. Well as uncomfortable as he ever looked. He was charming and charismatic, but he lacked that caring Hawke had. He doubted that he had Hawke’s talent for helping. Varric, on the other hand, walked over to Hawke and the inquisitor and took her hand. Varric had that mother hen instinct almost more than Hawke did. He’d help anyone he called friend no matter what the situation. He’d even helped Fenris get the deed to his mansion in Hightown so he could stop squatting like a fugitive. His words.  Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and for once he and Dorian had something in common.

Hawke being Hawke senses his discomfort. “Fen, you see that bag in the corner of the room?” Fenris looked around spotting the bag by the desk near the bookcase. He nodded and Hawke continued. “Would you mind taking that to our room? It’s Cullen’s things, we need to take them with us tomorrow.” Again Fenris nodded and he crossed the room to retrieve the bag. Hawke was giving him the out he wanted though he wondered if he should actually leave. That posed the same problem as before. There was only so many places he could go. Hawke motioned him over to them as he passed and he obliged. “Can you find my armour and set it out for me?” Hawke gave him his most charming smile and Fenris laughed softly.

“Perhaps.” He leant in to give Hawke a quick kiss. All the thoughts of their past had left him feeling affectionate. He smiled at the inquisitor as he pulled away. She held open her arms for a hug and he hesitated. Hawke watched him, but the inquisitor merely smiled, then pouted and gave him sad eyes. He leant in wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Thank you for all your help Fenris. The inquisition owes you.” She held him tight for a moment, and it wasn’t terrible, yet he didn’t think he’d start hugging people as a greeting. He merely nodded as he pulled away.  When he left, Dorian followed. He’d made a grand show of saying goodbye, and that he only left because he clearly wasn’t needed. Which was a lie, but only because he wanted to leave almost as much as Fenris.

“Fenris, do you like Tevinter Brandy by chance?” the question caught Fenris off guard.

“I’ve been known to partake in it on occasion, yes.” The mage nodded and was quite for a second. When he spoke again, Fenris actually stopped walking, wondering if he’d heard correctly.

“Care for a drink?”

His own answer stunned him. First he’d been caring, now this. What in the Void had happened to him lately? “I wouldn’t say no.”

“Excellent, not many people enjoy the refined taste of Tevintan alcohol.”

“Maybe the fact that it’s made using the blood and sweat of slaves turns them off.” His voice was bitter, but Dorian laughed anyways.

“Yes, it does have a metallic, salty tang to it, now that you mention it. Perfect blend for an Altus and former slave. Blood and sweat, things we know better than most.” Fenris chuckled softly. He’d probably injure the other man before the night was through especially after a brandy or two, but it would be interesting in the meantime.

“I’m not sure it’s safe for us to let that happen.” Hawke’s voice followed them as he pulled open the door.

“Let them go, Hawke. Sparkler can look after himself. And Broody’s mellowed with age. He hasn’t killed a single person his entire stay. I’d call that progress.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow at him as the door swung shut to the sound of Hawke and the inquisitor’s laughter. Fenris shrugged and kept walking.

 

****

 

Hawke didn’t return to their room all night. Fenris did though he didn’t recall doing so, which was not a promising start to the morning. He woke with the sun, still in the finery the inquisitor had lent him the day before, sprawled across the bed. He glanced around. Hawke’s armour was piled on the desk and the rest of their belongings had been stuffed into his saddlebags. His armour was laying on the floor by the bed. And strangely enough, he was wearing one gauntlet. It’s was not fastened but he had slipped it onto his hand for reasons unknown to him. How much had he had to drink? He honestly couldn’t even recall. He remembered Dorian and him arguing about something. Then laughing about something else. And he remembered thinking that he wasn’t so bad for someone who had been raised to be a magister. Yet he didn’t recall coming back here.

Cullen’s bag sat on the chair, with Hawke’s staff and his sword resting on top of it. He knew without a doubt that he’d not been down to the armoury. Who in their right mind would have given him a weapon if he was drunk?

“Morning sunshine. How’s the head?” he squinted at Hawke as he entered the room. He was dressed in his usual under armour. Hawke wore heavy armour, so getting it on was always challenging to do alone. Getting it off was also more time consuming that he’d like.  He’d seen Hawke fasten it on time or two when they’d been fighting but it always took him much longer than necessary, as he struggled with clips he couldn’t quite reach.

Fenris muttered his reply in Tevene. It felt fitting seeing the circumstances. He sighed and sat up peeling off his dress shirt. He rolled his shoulders and he could feel Hawke’s eyes on him. He could almost imagine him tracing his scars with them as he usually did. No matter how often he’d seen them. It was unavoidable, Fenris himself done it. They drew the eye. Seeing that they drew down his body and disappeared into his pants probably gave the wrong impression. Hawke was very impressionable. To prove Fenris’s point he cleared his throat. 

“Hope you can stay astride, we have a long ride ahead of us. Cullen has a head start. If we ride through the night, we’ll catch them before the dock. Fenris nodded then regretted it as he reached for his chest plate. His was just one piece that he slipped on like a shirt. The skin-tight leather material provided him the level of movement he needed to be able to fight like he did. He wasn’t weighted down by heavy metal. Only a thin steel plate that covered his chest. That made it difficult to get on. But comfortable to wear. His forearms and shoulders were more heavily armoured but he liked it that way.  He wasn’t the biggest guy, but anyone can shoulder a blow if they do it right. Not that he expected to do much fighting on the way to Kirkwall. Or at all really. This was an investigation, or, at least, it was supposed to be, but trouble followed Hawke so maybe full plate was necessary.

He was kind of excited to get back home. He missed Kirkwall and the people. True most of them ignored him, but they done it out of respect, not out of hate. He liked it that way. He also missed fighting with Aveline and bickering with Carver. Though they had grown close when Hawke had left. Carver was his family, and when Hawke had gone awol, he’d taken it onto himself to look after the younger man. Not that he needed it. Hawke couldn’t see Carver the way he wanted to be seen. It was why they fought so much. To him, he was always his little brother. Someone who needed protecting. Fenris had never met him as a boy. He was almost nineteen by the time they’d met so he didn’t have that issue.

Hawke was working the buckles he could as Fenris finished changing. He bounced on his toes and stretched out his shoulders. He’d brought his old armour, the one he’d worn when they had first met. He hadn’t worn it since Kirkwall and he wasn’t sure why he’d gotten it out but it was what he had. His others were already packed. It felt good to wear it again, and he was a little bit happy that it still fit, even if it did feel tighter than he remembered. But leather stretched and shrunk with the heat, or at least that’s what he was going to tell himself. Three years, yet it felt like only yesterday since he’d last felt it’s embrace.

“I like that armour. Brings back memories.” Hawke said as he positioned the left greave before, tightening it and clipping it in place.  Fenris walked over to give him a hand. Heavy armour was almost a two man job. He dragged his gauntleted fingers over his cheek, as he stepped behind him to fasten the breastplate. They could do with a good sharpening, but Fenris saw the shiver that ran through Hawke’s whole body. He loved these things. Fenris never expected to use them for any other purpose other than killing, but that had changed when he met Hawke.

“The good kind.”

“Vashedan, are you trying to get my armour on, or off.”

“Qunlat? Really.”

“Yes, Bull taught me. Problem?”

Fenris smiled and rolled his eyes. He had no doubt Hawke could Learn Qunlat should he want, but he doubted very much he had. Not in two weeks. Especially since they had been together for eleven years, and he still barely spoke a word of Tevene.

“Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but I bet it was sexy. Really anything you say is inherently sexy because you have that voice, but it’s more so when I can’t understand it.” Fenris laughed not sure he knew how to respond to that, in any language.

“Qunlat doesn’t translate well, what I said was, it is my purpose to do what I must for those I consider important. So in other words…”

Hawke waved his hand. “In other words, you were being a defransdim. There’s the other word I know.”

Fenris pulled on the clip that tightened his breastplate, and Hawke grabbed for his ribs.

“Not changing my opinion there Fenny-boy.” Fenris done it again and Hawke grunted. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please, I can’t breathe.” Fenris dropped the clip and gave the plate a little yank. He watched in amusement as Hawke worked his hand under the plate to rub his ribs. The big baby, women done it all the time. “Not sure I trust you to do that anymore.”

“Venhedis, big baby,” Fenris muttered as he redone the clip. “Better?”   

“Much.” They were silent as Hawke adjusted is armour then, checked it again. The advantages of heavy armour with the flexibility of Medium. He always said. Fenris didn’t think removing pieces that got in your way was exactly the way to do things, but he’s spent long enough watching Hawke butcher perfectly good sets of armour to know better than to say anything. Besides Hawke armour was really only distracting him from thoughts of home.

Kirkwall, they were so close to being back, that he wondered if they shouldn’t just stay. That was where they should be. Hawke was their Champion, he was needed there. They could make a difference there. Did they really need another quest, when the place they called home was at the mercy of Starkhaven. Sebastian only left them alone because he though Hawke had killed Anders, everyone did, himself included, but a letter had arrived while Hawke was here the first time. And it’s sender could be no one else. Fenris should have realised Hawke would never kill a friend. Even if he deserved it. They had yet to speak about that, but Fenris wouldn’t bring it up. The fact of the matter was that if Seb found out. Kirkwall would fall, and without Hawke there. He didn’t want to think of what might happen. Most might say a single man couldn’t turn the tide on a fight but clearly they had never seen Hawke in a fight.       

“You’re brooding. While incredibly sexy and rare these days, it does make me want to know why. And cause you to stop. I do hate competition.”

“I am not… I was thinking. Maybe we should leave Cullen to this quest. If he finds the cure I’m sure he’ll give it to Carver.”

“And let him have all the fun, I think not.”

“I'm serious Hawke, you were supposed to be done with world-changing goals. Right now Kirkwall needs you, not much has changed since you left.”

“Kirkwall survived without me for 25 years, it can wait a few months.”

“Why does it have to be you? Why always you? Why can’t someone else save everybody for once?” Fenris didn’t want to fight, but fear was knotting in his stomach and he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t scared to fight or to travel. But with every word his fear grew, and so did his anger.

“It doesn’t have to be me. Fenris where is this coming from. You’re clearly annoyed at me for some reason. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be picking a fight. Just say it already, I won’t fight with you.”

“This quest is foolish. There is no cure for the blight. It is a waste of time. If you want to do something more meaningful why not protect our home. Why chase a dream? Do you really crave adventure that much that you feel the need to invent it?”

“Foolish, you think it’s foolish? You think my holding onto hope to save my brother from an early grave is foolish?” Hawke turned on him. Standing over him in a way he never did. Fenris could see the fire in his eyes as he glared at him. Anger good, he could deal with anger. “That my having hope is foolish? Hope is all I have Fenris. All I have ever had. I hoped we would escape Lothering without losing any more family than I already had. I hoped that working as a smuggler for an entire year would be enough to get my family safe passage in the city. I hoped the expedition into the deep roads would be a success, then I hoped my brother would survive.” Hawke took a step forward, and for a second Fenris regretted setting him on this path, but he need Hawke to know, he wasn’t sure what, but he knew that he didn’t want him to go on this crazy mission. “I hoped that that one day the fact that you walked out on me would stop hurting, and hoped you’d come to your scenes. I hoped the Qunair wouldn’t destroy my city and I hoped that I’d live to see it recover from them. See hoping is what I do, I don’t have faith, I don’t have luck and I don’t believe in destiny. I act, I don’t like something I change, it and hope for everything to turn out better. So maybe that’s the reason it’s always me. Because I make things happen, no matter the consequences!” 

“And what of the cost. Will you pay that and hope all goes well for the rest of us? Do you think we’ll follow your leads and they will point us to a shop that is conveniently selling vials of the cure to anyone who thinks to ask? There is a reason it happened the way it has. And those reasons are usually dangerous. Hoping for everything to turn out okay won’t always be enough Hawke. Are you ready for that?”

“I have no choice.” His voice was little more than a growl, and it took Fenris by surprise. There was something behind that. Something that Hawke wasn’t telling him. Hawke wouldn’t fight it so hard otherwise.

“There is always a choice, Hawke.”

Hawke gave a dry laugh and Fenris glared at the other man. He knew what he was thinking. And Hawke didn’t even have to say the words for it to hurt. He didn’t have a choice, not always. He knew better than anyone that choice was not something that comes freely. The fact that Hawke didn’t say it was the only redemption Fenris was willing to give him. Hawke might be mad but he was never cruel. “Not always.”

“Bastard,” Fenris growled the word and Hawke didn’t even flinch. They were both too mad to continue this conversation. But they would continue it. Maker's arse they would.

Hawke gathered up the remainder of his plate, his staff and Cullen’s bag. The action sending Fenris’s sword clattering to the floor with a metallic thunk. He turned his back on Fenris. Apparently thinking the same thing he was and walked to the door. He stopped in the doorway and didn’t turn to look at him as he spoke. “I don’t expect you to understand, but when we get to Kirkwall, feel free to stay. But I won’t be.” Then he left.

“Venhedis, Fasta vass!” Fenris slammed his fist into the wall near the window. Pain shot up his arm, and he winced as he heard the crunch. But he ignored the pain. The anger that burned inside him was almost more than he could bare. Part of him wanted to chase Hawke and tare him a new one. It was far from over, but he knew that wasn’t wise. Things were rapidly approaching the point where stuff that couldn’t be taken back was said and they would both regret it. As it was, he was ready to kill the mage. Talking to him now wouldn’t help. He roughly put on his sheath and slung the sword into place before gathering up his things.  His hand which was likely broken screamed in agony as he straightened it and ensured all bones were aligned. He’d make a quick stop to the Inquisitor before he went for his horse. Surely she’d have a healing potion somewhere. 

 

 


	12. Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was shorter than i thought it was. So depending on how long the next chapter takes me to proof and edit, i may post another very soon. :D

 

“So then Cullen leant forward and said ‘Deal again, I’ve figured out you tells, Lady Ambassador.’ I shit you not boys, by the end of that hand….”

“That’s enough Bull. They know what happened, half of Thedas knows.” Cullen had lived it, heard about and had to relive it enough times already. It wasn’t happening again.

“Oh, he was just gettin’ to the good part.” Krem complained and the rest of the Chargers laughed.

“Now, now, Cullen is still in a mood. Do you really want him to kick your ass again?”

“He can try. He didn’t kick my arse chief, but Grimm yeah, he got Grimm good.” Cullen looked toward Grimm, who had a nasty bruise forming around his eye, and his nose was still swollen. Cullen felt terrible. He’d let his anger get the better of him. That hadn’t happened in years. Grimm glared at him but merely grunted in response.  Cullen hardly looked any prettier. He had a black eye that would make even the Maker flinch, and his stomach. He was sure that his organs still weren’t where they were supposed to be. The bottom of his rib cage was blue, and it still hurt to breath, but he deserved it.  He’d broken Grimm’s nose, dislocated Stitches knee, and sprained Krem’s wrist. None of them seemed to hold it against him, they were mercenaries, but still, he would if they wouldn’t. He deserved their ire.

Because of that, he refused the healing potion that they tried to give him. He would get over this the old fashioned way. He was hardly a stranger to pain, and this would serve as a useful reminder of what letting his temper get the better of him would get him.

“Neither of them will be very pretty for a while that’s for sure, but I still think you should take a shot of healing potion, Cullen. Not every man can take a blow from The Bull unarmoured and live to tell the tale.”

“I’ll endure.”

“Tough son of a bitch. Or stupid, either way, nice to see the burden of command hasn’t sent you soft.”

“I’ll admit you had us worried there when Krem got the jump on you.” Cullen looked to the Iron Bull. The metal in his eye patch glinted in the firelight. Cullen straightened, winced then slouched again. Okay, so that wasn’t happening just yet.

“And what’s that supposed to mean you ass?” Krem sounded more than a little offended and Bull rolled his eye.

“Come on Krem, the man has twenty pounds on you, and years more experience. If Cullen wanted to make you his little bitch, he would. I’ve sparred with him, I know he can fight.”

Cullen couldn’t help the small smile that moved to his lips. He was unaware his abilities were ever at question, but at least, he was glad to put them to rest. Fighting was something he knew well, taught well, and done well. He’d hate to think that was ever being questioned. He may not actively search out conflict like Bull and the Chargers did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy flexing his fighting muscles from time to time.

“When he comes back, maybe we let him join the Chargers Chief. He’ll lose his cushy office job, but that’s a way back into the Inquisition.”

“Not a bad idea, but Cullen’s too noble to be a mercenary. He has to fight for something. And coin doesn’t count as a worthy cause.”

“Cullen’s also still right here, didn’t go anywhere you know.”

“Yes, you are. You know Cullen, I bet you can’t even remember the last time you slept on a bedroll. This is going to be an experience for you.”

“I’ll have you know…,” he cut himself off. Maker, he couldn’t remember the last time. Not since before he was a Templar. He’d always had a bed and after training, he’d been stationed in a circle, then posted to Kirkwall. Both positions came with quarters. He’d not truly slept under the stars since he was a boy. “Makers breath, I should have stolen a pillow.”

Bull’s men cracked up laughing, and Bull slapped Cullen on the shoulder, harder than his already aching body would have liked. The banter continued as the sky darkened. By the time full dark had settled Krem had broken out the meed and everyone, Cullen included had been given a tankard. Cullen was grateful, alcohol was just what he needed to take the edge off, and maybe help him sleep off the worst of his injuries. He wondered if Hawke and Fenris would catch them before they made it to the port. They would if they didn’t stop, they only have a few hours head start. If the pair had left at dawn and didn’t stop at dusk to make camp, it was possible. After all, it was a two-day ride, but travelling at night held its own set of risks. Risks that were probably irrelevant to men like Fenris and Hawke, who can and knowing them would just kill anything that dared to stop them. Unnecessary conflict was never his style, but each to their own he guessed.

He laid out his bedroll near the fire. It was a risk sleeping among a group of mercenaries. Especially ones who weren’t very happy with you, but he had a feeling he’d need the rest. He’d not been back to Kirkwall since the Seeker had recruited him, and frankly, he never planned on returning either. He’d never considered himself a marcher, and he’d only fought for Kirkwall to protect its people and because it was his duty. Not because he had a love for the city. Because, in fact, he didn’t. He was there about the same length of time as Hawke. His superiors transferring him shortly after the Hero of Ferelden had saved the tower because he was one of the few, who had not only survived, had walked out sane. Yet even though his mind was still his own that didn’t mean he wasn’t affected. Being away from the horrors he’d faced and the people that had inflicted them helped, but even now he still dealt with the issues that had cropped up because of that experience.

Cullen had once believed Mages could be trusted. He did again, mostly, but at first, that had been an unconditional belief he’d held.  He’d seen them as people, which they were, but in his mind, they were no different than he was. He’d had friends in the circle, and he’d even had a little thing for Solona. Who was very much like her cousin in the fact that she very much liked to flirt, especially with him. He’d never been good at subtlety, something that hadn’t really changed so she, and most of the other Templars and Mages knew he had a crush on her.

That all changed, and by the time he was made night captain in Kirkwall, he’d changed. He saw Mages with a distrust that Meredith had approved of in her crazier years and, at first, he’d agreed with her rite of tranquillity. He’d policed the Mages under his care strictly and controlled his Templars with an iron fist. Yet despite that, his one redeeming quality was that he wasn’t unreasonable and did, in most cases, try to be fair. He didn’t like the man he was in Kirkwall, he was angry and jaded, but despite that he was reasonable. His men mostly liked him, at the very least they were loyal enough to him not to rebel when he tried to overthrow Meredith, or when he helped Hawke save any Mage that surrendered. When he looked back now, he knew his time in Kirkwall wasn’t a time in his life he should revisit. He’d already learned, and grew from that time, but it was where Hawke’s brother was and they needed him with them in case this cure was a personalised thing.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. One of the first things a Templar learns is to take your sleep when you can get it. If that means you have to sleep standing, whilst leaning against a wall, you did it. The skill also comes in handy in times like these. He’d never been so uncomfortable in his life. Well, that was a lie but not in his recent life. The bedroll was thin, much too thin for a man of his size, and he wondered if they had purposely given him a child’s, he wouldn’t put that past them. The second they got to Kirkwall. He was going to have to ask Hawke to lend a few Royals until he got back on his feet a little. He had savings, of course, but they were currently all tied up in the Inquisition. So at present, he didn’t even have two coppers to rub together. He knew what such a favour would get him. Hawke would be more than happy to just give him that money. He didn’t want that. Though it would come with endless amounts of flirting, and teasing, and down right shamefulness. If it didn’t, then he would be worried, that wasn’t the reason he didn’t want it. He doesn’t do charity, he has and always will provide for himself.

He’d been employed from the age of thirteen, and as a Templar has never actually wanted for anything. Sure, he’d never lived in luxury, Skyhold for him was about the height of it, but he’d always had clean clothes, a place to sleep, good shoes, and hot food. He didn’t need anything else. Right now, he had the clothes on his back, a donated bed roll and whatever the Chargers decided to give him to eat. Bull was a friend, so it wasn’t like he’d have to go naked or starve, but he did actually kind of feel like a fugitive on his way to face justice. Even though he’d not done anything wrong.

He cleared his mind and closed his eyes. Morning would come sooner than he’d like and rest was necessary. It took little effort for him to fall asleep and it wasn’t until Bull kicked him softly in the ribs that he even remotely stirred.

The sound of fighting followed Bulls nudge and Cullen sprung to his feet his middle protesting greatly and a sword was thrust into his hand.

“Bandits, can you fight?” the rest of the Chargers were scrambling for weapons as the ones who had raised the alarms were firing arrows into the darkness. The weight of the sword almost felt too much, and he felt naked without his armour but he nodded and took a defensive position next to Bull.

“How many?”

“A few dozen.” Bull’s response was casual like that was a usual response. If one of his scouts had reported a few dozen bandits blocking the road up ahead, he’d order them to find a safer route, to avoid that kind of risk. He wouldn't casually arm half a dozen men, and let them loose. This was suicide, Bull was insane. He wasn’t sure he wanted this man leading his army anymore.

“A few Dozen? Bull we’re outnumbered two to one. Not insurmountable odds, I agree, but wouldn’t the safer option be to pull back, avoid risking the few men we have.”

“Now where is that fun in that? The inquisitor and I took on more bandits than this every time we took a stronghold. We’ve got this, besides, word gets out we’re bad asses they will think twice about messing with us, leave one alive and it’s a win-win.”

“Maker’s Breath I knew my worry over Evelyn wasn’t uncalled for like she insisted.”

“Yes, it was, the Inquisitor cleared the field for us quicker than any Mage I’ve ever known. It was usually a case of us running around hacking off limbs off burning Templars, or cutting down fried Vints. That woman knows how to work out her anger on the field. I’ll tell you now Cullen, it’s hot.”

Before Cullen even got a chance to respond to that the bandits were on them. Bull took on the first wave alone, but the second wave was right behind them and they slipped past a now occupied Bull. Culled readied his sword, knowing he was at a disadvantage, dressed in only his finery and lacking a shield, he was more than exposed. But there was no time to dwell.

Steel meeting steel pulled him to the present and he found he’d blocked a blow out of reflex. His sides screamed in pain but he spun away from his opponent, using the motion of his turn to run the man through. He didn’t stop there, he lashed out at a man that had one of the Chargers pinned against the tree. The man, who must have seen him coming parried the blow with enough force to make Cullen stumble. And stumble he did. Somehow he managed to get his sword up to block the strike the man threw out trying to take advantage of Cullen’s ungamely footing. His ribs cried out in pain as one arm bore the blow. It was almost enough for him to drop his sword and sheer force of will alone was all that kept it in his hand. The man struck again but this time, Cullen had his footing and he dodged the attack by faking to the right and bringing his sword up to the left slicing through the torso of his attacker. The man fell to the ground, hot blood, coated his hands as his movement took him a few more steps before he could get them under control. He grabbed his middle with his free hand, panting hard. He wouldn’t survive the smallest of blows in this condition, so he needed to be smart.

Pain lanced through his shoulder and he dropped his sword as he moved out of the way of whatever was causing the pain.  He threw himself to the ground scrambling for the sword with his left hand, managing to grasp it just in time to roll mostly out of the way of the giant’s downward swing. The huge axe, which had only seconds ago glanced his shoulder, tore into his calf, and by sheer luck missed the bone. He tried to get to his feet but the pain from the two new wounds combined with all of his other injuries saw that fail and he collapsed to the ground scrambling away from the advancing giant. Two blows that should have removed his limbs had missed, but he knew his luck wasn’t going to last a third time. This was it, after everything he’d already survived, he was going to be killed by a bandit. History would remember him as a traitor, and he’d die looking like some incapable noble that had hired a mercenary band to get him safely to his destination.

Light blazed behind the figure as he raised axe. His body jerked and he grunted, a look of shock and confusion washing out his brutish features. Cullen watched as the huge man dropped to his knees, his massive axe digging into the dirt near Cullen’s head. As the warrior face planted the earth, Cullen saw the source of the light and the cause of his timely demise. Fenris stood behind the crumpled body, glowing a ghostly blue, heart in his bloody hand. He dropped the heart next to the body he’d just pulled it from and stepped over him to hold out his clean hand to Cullen. Kind of in shock at what he’d just witnessed he took the proffered hand and the Elf pulled him to his feet with an ease that didn’t seem possible.

“Chargers hit the floor!” Hawke’s voice rose over the battle, and Fenris swore spear tackling Cullen back to the ground, right back where he’s just been laying. He landed in a pool of his own blood with Fenris on top of him. Thunder cracked and the sky lit up with lightning, as bolt after bolt stuck everybody still on their feet. The smell was awful, and the sight was horrifying but Cullen couldn’t look away. Though seeing Fenris was still on top of him he had little choice. Smoke from, Cullen didn’t even want to imagine, started to fill the space where they had been camped. The sound of screams, over the crackling of lightning, was the stuff of nightmares, and there standing in the centre of it was Hawke, arms raised, untouched by what looked like the Makers wrath.  It stopped and Hawke crumbled to the ground, there was no one left standing. If any bandits hadn’t yet made it to the camp, Cullen would bet any money that they had turned tail and run at that display.

He’d never seen anything like that. Not in all his years as a Templar, no Mage was supposed to have that kind of power. All this time, he’d thought Varric had exaggerated Hawke’s abilities for the sake of a good story but he’d been wrong. He’d actually dulled them down. If Cullen had realised just how powerful Hawke was back in Kirkwall, he’d not have let him go free. He’d not used such display of power when they had been facing Meredith he was sure of it. He would have noticed.   

Fenris pushed himself off of Cullen, now covered in blood, he ran to Hawke, not even bothering to look around. Slowly Bull and the rest of the Chargers got to their feet. A few of them sported minor injuries, but as it was, it looked like Hawke and himself were the only one in any real trouble. Fenris dropped to his knees by Hawke and pulled his head onto his lap.

“Lyrium, he needs a Lyrium potion,” Fenris growled as everyone seemed to get their bearings. Cullen tried to sit up but his vision darkened and his world spun. He was woozy, he’d lost so much blood. Maker, he must have hit an artery. He closed his eyes. And he heard Fenris’s voice again, softer this time though he knew he wasn’t supposed to. “Hawke you fool, why would you do that. We had it.”

“Okay big guy, open up, stoic or not you need this.” Bull, that voice belonged to Bull. Cullen pried open his eyes to see Bull kneeling next to him with a healing potion. He tried to sit up, but that same feeling of falling washed over him and he stayed down. Bull dragged him upright. “Stitches, your expertise is needed, or we’re going to lose our charge.”

Cullen wanted to protest. He was mostly fine, a little woozy, a lot sore, but he wouldn’t die. He was fine, but when he tried to open his mouth to speak, nothing come out, his mouth didn’t open. His body felt heavy and his vision was black tinged. He just needed to rest a while. That was all. He closed his eyes, as something grabbed at his leg. The feeling fading away. Only for a few seconds really, that’s all he needed.

“Cullen! Stay with us. Stitches, I need some of that up here. Krem, get his mouth open. Dalish a healing spell wouldn’t go unappreciated right about now.” Bull’s voice was far away but the draw of the darkness was too strong. He just needed to rest, for just a moment. “Cullen!”


	13. Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all :D  
> this Chapter has a kinda sex scene, it's the first one i've written so i hope it's okay. not sure if there will be more explicit stuff in the future, but for now be warned there is almost sex. Nuf said :P  
> I will post two chapters tonight seeing as i haven't have a chance to post one lately or at least it feel like it. but anyways enjoy

 

 

His skin burnt, Makers breath that was uncomfortable! He opened his eyes. Fenris was glowing, like really, glowing, on his knees next to him and Hawke’s skin was on fire. The second Fenris noticed Hawke was awake his light went out and the fire that was all over Hawke’s skin disappeared right with it. He knew what Fenris had done. He’d used the Lyrium in him to recharge Hawke, evidently enough to regain consciousness. Hawke ignored his throbbing head, and how empty he felt and reached out a hand to touch his lovers face. They’d not said a word to each other since they had left Skyhold, yet here they were. 

Fenris turned his head away from the touch after a few seconds. “Here.” He pressed what Hawke new was a Lyrium potion to his lips. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be enough to get him back on his feet and rid the empty feeling inside of him. He couldn’t feel the fade, not even at all, he needed that back. He drank the potion far to quickly, the vile tasting liquid instantly working, making him more aware, more alive. That’s was when he noticed the commotion. Bull and the chargers were gathered around someone. Smearing poultices on the blood covered skin. Bull shouting orders and trying to wake up…. Cullen!

Hawke bound to his feet, fast enough that he almost toppled back over but some how, sher force of will maybe, he managed to stay up right. He felt weak and knew this was hardly the time to use any magic. Especially magic that he was intently bad at but Cullen was deathly pale, and there was so much blood. Maker he couldn’t let him die. Fenris growled his first name as Hawke strode forward. He grabbed at his arm to stop him as he scrambled to his feet after him but Hawke wasn’t having any of that. He kept going only to collapse half on Bull’s lap. Close enough.

“Excuse me, mage coming through. Lives to be saved and all.” Hawke pulled all the magic he had left into a spell. He could feel himself drawing at the edges of the fade, taking its power mixing it with his own. It was risky, but he just didn’t have enough energy for this kind of spell otherwise. As his hand lit up he could feel himself wavering, but he hung on. He was definitely passing out again after this but Cullen needed the kind of help that only magic could provide. Maybe when this was over, if he lived through it that was, he’d become a healer, he was getting better at it, slowly. Fenris growled his name again, a warning, but Hawke ignored him. A few more seconds… the spell encased his hand, all his magic left him at once and his world went dark the second his hand touched Cullen’s chest.

When he woke up he was in a bed. A small bed, one that was hard and rocking. He looked around. There were other bunks, small, hard looking things like the one he laid on and he’d seen bunks like this before. The smell of the sea, and the sound of gulls told him everything he needed to know. He was in the hull of a ship. How long had he been out? Everything hurt as he sat up. His head felt as if it would split in two but that’s what happened if you kept exhausting you mana, and not replacing it.  He looked around quickly, on the floor by his bed sat Fenris. Fast asleep with his back to the hull and on the bed next to his was Cullen, looking very much alive and well. He was wearing clothes fit for a pirate and was snoring softly. Hawke laid back down and smiled at the bunk above him. Worth it, so very worth it. He closed his eyes again.

“I hope you don’t think I’m helping you this time.” Hawke felt his smile widen at the sound of Fenris’s sleepy voice. “You can heal yourself mage.”

“Give me a few days and maybe I will.” His voice was rough and croaky. Everything hurt, he needed Lyrium, and he did need to heal himself, badly. 

“And don’t think I’m going to be waiting on you. You made your choice, reap the consequences.”

“Just one potion. I swear you can go back to brooding and punishing me after that.” He opened his eyes to look at Fenris. Hawke gave him his most charming smile. He did not look impressed.

“No, we still aren’t talking.”

“Funny, seems to me like we’re talking.”

“I’m not….” He stopped. “Shut up, I’m still mad at you. Find your own damned potion.”

“Maker’s breath Fenris. Hawke saved my life, would you have rather I died? If you won’t get the man Lyrium, I will.” Cullen. Hawke smiled to himself. He knew he was worth saving.

“Yes. It was foolish to use magic again so soon. He’d barely recovered. Your life would have been forfeit had he not woken up.”

“Wow that was cold. You saved my life first if I recall correctly.”

“I did, but I would not risk Hawke’s life for anyone’s. If it meant harm would come to him, I’d let you die a hundred times over. Perhaps I’d feel some regret, but that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Even when he’s mad at me he says the sweetest things. Gets me all tingley inside.”

“Trap shut mage, I am not talking to you.”

Cullen sat up and leant down to reach under his bunk. He pulled out the bag they had brought for him and began rummaging through it. After a second or two he produced a Lyrium potion, he srood and tossed it to Hawke as he passed heading for the stairs. Hawke missed it completely. Fenris snatched the falling bottle from the air with snake like reflexes. Saving it from smashing on the ground. He looked at it, sighed and held out his hand to Hawke.

“This doesn’t count as me giving it to you.”

Hawke smirked, unable to stop himself, even though he knew he should. “Well technically…”

Fenris snatched the bottle away cutting Hawke off. He raised an eyebrow at him. Hawke gave him another charming smile, which had no effect at all really. “Do I have to beg?” Fenris seemed to consider that for a moment, then gave a small incline of his head.

“Yes, I do like the sight of Mages on their knees.”

Again, that was way too good to pass up. If people wanted a serious answer from him they really needed to stop setting him up like this. He gave him a lopsided grin and waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”

Cullen coughed chocking on air apparently, as he stumbled a bit on the stairs to the deck above, before disappearing completely and Fenris spluttered before laughing thrusting the potion into Hawkes hand. “You are ridiculous.”

“You love it.” Hawke popped the cork with his teeth, not for a second taking his eyes off of the now blushing elf. They couldn’t stay mad at each other, they didn’t know how, fighting for them was merely foreplay, it was inevitable. It was what he loved most about Fenris. There was nothing that he wouldn’t forgive him for. Well almost nothing. There were something that were unforgivable, and he prayed to the maker that he’d never have to do any of them.

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum, Hawke.” Fenris’s voice was low and the second Hawke removed the glass from his lips, Fenris’s took its place. He tasted of rum, vanilla and magic and Hawke drank him in like he’d not had water for days. With a strength only moments ago he didn’t possess he pulled his lover onto his lap. The elf straddling him never for a second breaking the kiss. Fenris’s mouth parted to Hawke and he deepened th_ _e kiss, as he pulled him closer. H_ _e needed to feel him against his body if only for a moment. They broke apart, breathless and the heat in his lover’s eyes warmed him to the core. In that moment Hawke saw nothing but him, and his kiss swollen grin. Fenris was wrong. He’d be the death of Hawke, he was sure of it. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this man, nothing._

_Hawke took his mouth again this time his hands moved to find the buckles in his armour. He almost swore when he realised there were none and once again he was forced to break the kiss. “Take it off.” His voice was a gruff growl, low and demanding. He knew better than to order Fenris to do anything, but he needed him out of his armour. His body actually ached to touch Fenris’s scared but beautiful skin. Fenris cocked an eyebrow at his lover teasingly. Hawke tugged him forward, and sat up fully, grinding his hips into the other man, just so he could feel how much Hawke wanted this. “Or I will.”_

_With a growl Fenris took his mouth pushing him backwards on the small hard bed. Hawke gasped as Fenris’s gauntlets dragged along his skin. Hard enough to mark it, but not enough to break the skin. The elf took Hawkes bottom lip between his teeth. A sweet sting made him groan, and writhe. His hips bucking in response. Fenris growled deep in his throat the guttural sound echoing through Hawke’s entire body._

_“Quiet mage, you do not order me.” He could feel Fenris’s breath hot on his lips, and the lust, and want in those emerald eyes almost drew another moan from Hawke. He closed his eye as Fenris nibbled at his jaw, his neck, his chest… a cool breeze hit his chest as material ripped. The linen of his shirt fell open to his sides like a undone dress shirt. Hawke bit his lips as Fenris dragged the gauntlets down his body. The once sharp point leaving burning lines in his sensitive flesh. And he had to repress a moan as Fenris’s m_ _outh followed the bruring_ _down._ _Hot then cold._ _Every kiss bring him lower. Hawke’s hips bucked in anticipation. Fenris tksed and grabbed Hawkes’s cock through his leathers. All the air left him in a hiss of need at the touch._

_“Fuck…. Please.” Hawke’s voice was primal, he could barely think enough to speak, the only thing that mattered was that gauntleted hand on his cock._

_“That’s better.” Fenris leant down to kiss him again, his hand falling away and Hawke moaned into the other man’s mouth. The clatter of metal hitting the floor sounded before Fenris tksed again. Hawke opened his eyes and bit his lip as he stared at his lovers beautiful face. Fenris ran a bare hand down his cheek, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on Hawke lips. “So needy.”_

_His skin lit up at the touch. Fenris calling to him in the way only he did. Though weak, his mana thumbed inside of him. The wave of power that rocketed through his body pushed him to the edge, then receded. His back arched as he bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Fenris’s nails dragged along his skin, down, lower, the pulses following them, coming faster and faster, pushing him closer to the edge each time. Hawke moaned, not sure how much more he could take. Fenris flicked the waistband of his leathers and Hawke cried out._

_“Fenris… Fuck, Maker please.” His back arched off the bed as a pulse of power erupted in his belly, his own mana thumbing and vibrating in response. If he kept this up Hawke was going to be finished before anything fun actually happened. Fenris’s hand slipped painfully slowly into his leathers. Hawkes skin tingled and he moaned as Fenris hand wrapped around his length. Hawke gave a startled gasp as Fenris squeezed him leaning forward to nibble his jaw._

_“I should punish you.”_

_Fuck maker he wanted to be punished. Actually he was open to pretty much anything Fenris said right about now. Fenris stoked him, and waves of pleasure coursed through his body. A quick pulse of energy had him on edge, his cock pulsing with his need. He stopped, letting Hawke ride the waves but not letting it spill over. Hawke groaned deep in his throat. The sound somewhere between a moan and a growl._

_“But you’d like that.”_

_Maker he needed Fenris to finish him, he was so hard it hurt. Another quick pulse lit him right back up._

_“Bastard….” He couldn’t find the word_ _s_ _to finish that sentence and Fenris’s low chuckle told Hawke that he was enjoying this. Fenris stroked him again, faster this time and Hawke entire body responded. He thrusted into Fenris hand, moving and bucking never wanting the feeling to stop but needing it to. He was so close it hurt, yet th_ _e pain was sweet and only pushed him closer_ _._

_“Maker’s breath! I will never be able to unsee that!” Cullen voice instantly cooled him off. Fenris removed his hand quickly and backed off of Hawke leaving him hard, and bare in fro_ _nt of the other man. Thank the M_ _aker for his leathers. Heat moved to his cheeks as he looked to Cullen who was standing on the top of the stairs, hand covering his eyes. Hawke collapsed back onto the bed, frustrated. He’d forgotten about the other man, and appreciated that he’d_ _left_ _, though his sense of timing left something to be desired. “I’m… ah, sorry. I hoped you’d be finished.” He stuttered through his words, in a way that Hawke would have found adorable if he was_ _n’t_ _currently so hard it physically hurt._

_“Finished? You severely underestimate my stamina.” Hawke’s voice was rough, bitter and annoyed, but he couldn’t help it. Cullen tried not to laugh, his eyes still covered as he backed up a step._

_“_ _I didn’t mean…” he cleared his throat. “_ _The captain wants all hands on deck, ours included. We are porting at the docks shortly.”_

_Hawke gave a dry laugh as he looked to Fenris, who adjusted himself and walked toward the stairs. “Hawke will need a moment.” His lover’s voice was amused and Hawke wanted to punch him right in_ _his sumg_ _face._

_“Yeah, well, fuck you both very much,” he grumbled as the two men disappeared up the stairs._

                  

****

 

            “Seriously?” Fenris’s voice once again held that amused note to it. Hawke ignored him as he helped the two men pull the rope, which connected to something. Hawke wasn’t a sailor, he didn’t know what in the void he was doing only that they asked for his help. The man behind him tied off the rope and moved on. Hawke stayed where he was, because like he said, no clue on how to sail a ship. He turned to face Fenris. The elf’s smile split his face as he gave Hawke a once over. “Didn’t you pack other shirts?”

            Hawke put his hands on bare hips. He’d forgone getting a new shirt in order to feel more like a pirate. He’d even ripped up what remained of his old shirt to make himself a bandana. Shirtless, in only a pair of leathers, and boots that another sailor had given him, Hawke was very comfortable. So naturally he was freezing, the sea air wasn’t exactly forgiving but he looked good, so it hardly mattered, right?.

            “Clothing optional, remember.” He said and walked toward the bow, and over looked his city. It felt like years since he’d been back here. It looked just like he remembered, the rebuilding efforts, were still, well he was sure they were on track. Yet not much had really changed since he’d left.

            “Kirkwall. It’s good to be home.” The voice startled him so much he actually jumped. It was the last voice he’d expected to hear. He looked down at Varric, who now stood next to him.

“You followed us?”

“Of course I followed you. First curly gets the boot, then the pair of you leave at the crack of dawn the next day. Even if Red hadn’t let me in on your little plan, there is no way in the void that I wouldn’t have figured it out on my own.”

Hawke sighed.  “Varric….”

“I know, I know Hawke. Whatever you are up to I’m not invited. Can’t say I’m not a little hurt but I understand. Beside it was high time I returned home. I can do more from Kirkwall anyways.”

Hawke gave a small smile which turned into a grim as he bent to hug his best friend pulling him into a bear hug. Varric struggled and laughed pushing Hawke away.  “Drinks at the hanged man tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Though please put on a shirt before you arrive. There is only room enough for one display of manly chest hair and mines much more impressive.”

 

 


	14. Isabela/Fenris

 

Isabela

 

“So, fancy a tumble?” Isabela turned to see Carver Hawke standing in all his glory next to her at the bar. She wanted to but she was unable to hide the smile that moved to her face at the sight of him. She’d not see the younger Hawke in what felt like years. And he looked as good as ever. It seemed both Hawkes only got better with age. She’d noticed just how much he’d grown up the last time she’d seen him, but then they had been too busy fighting for their lives and running, for her to truly appreciate it. So she’d do it now. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

“That’s it? No flirting, no blushing. Where is the fun in that?”  Carver laughed as he walked around her to take a seat next to her at the bar. Isabela watched him, with open curiosity. She’d always thought him and Hawke looked more alike than they cared to admit, right now, with a few days’ worth of scruff on his jaw he could have been Hawke when he was in his twenties though he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. Their young Carver had just turned thirty, they grow up so fast. Give him a beard and he’d look a lot like Hawke when they first met. Though Carver’s features were harder than Hawke’s, his nose straighter, and his smile rare, unlike his ever smiling brother, they were definitely brothers. Though most people didn’t see it.

“Don’t have time to be charming….”

She interrupted him. “That’s why you’re in the Blooming Rose?”

He spluttered whatever he was about to say. His cheeks growing redder by the second. “I hate you. How do I always forget that?” he sighed before he continued. “I was looking for you actually. We heard you were back in town, so I was sent to invite you to dinner at Aveline’s tonight. Her exact words were ‘Tell the whore the men of Kirkwall will still be there after dinner if you could call the gutter rats she sleep with men.’ So Aveline’s keen to see you.”

“Awww how is the old prude?”

“Good, she’s on leave at the moment and it’s driving her mad, and, in turn, driving Donnic and me crazy. It’ll be nice to have you around to pick at for a change.”

“Tempting offer but….”

“Before you say no, Varric, Garret and Fenris get back into Kirkwall this afternoon. I’m also on my way over to invite Merrill. All the old gang will be there. Come on Iz, it’s been five years since we’ve all been in the same room together.”

Isabela wanted to point out that it wasn’t, in fact, all of the old gang, but she knew that was best left unsaid especially to Carver, besides it would be good to see them all again. She’d had few other real friends outside of her crew, even then they were pirates. Hawke and the gang would do anything for her, no matter the cost, her crew would also, unless someone paid them not too. It was a sad truth, but still a truth.

“Fine, I’ll come to your little dinner party. On one condition, I get to go with you to ask Merrill.”

“Absolutely not, I don’t care if you come or not. That is not happening.”

“You still hot for her huh?”

“Me? No, I was never….” He trailed off and looked away that blush creeping back on his cheeks. Adorable.

“Carver, you’re not getting any younger. Ask her out already. Do I need to get Hawke involved? You saw how well that worked out for Aveline.”

“I have, and we have, it’s just… she’s, and I… It's not like talking to you. If I walked up to Merrill and asked her for a tumble she’d ask me why, because falling could be painful.”

“Sweet Maker your brother is gay and he’s better with women than you are. Why don’t you try just telling her you’re interested? I know you know how to flirt, but be a bit shameless and blunt. She’s a sweet girl, be her bad boy.”

“The answer is still no Isabela.”

“Fine.” She stood and turned her back on him. “I accept your invitation, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be at Merrill’s until the festivities start.”

Carver cursed. “Maker, you are relentless.”

“And you have pretty eyes.”

“Fine let’s go.”

 

****

 

Aveline’s house wasn’t the one she remembered. They had upgraded and for a moment, she puzzled over why Carver was staying with them but pushed that thought from her mind. Maybe Carver had left the Wardens to join the guard. With what she’s heard about the wardens lately, she hardly blamed him. Merrill hugged her from behind and she laughed.

“It’s just like old times. If only Hawke were walking ahead of us, it would be like no time has passed at all.”

“I missed you kitten. Are you sure you don’t want to be a pirate? I can get one of these made in your size, it will be great.” Isabela tugged at her tunic with a roguish smile.

Carver snorted and Merrill giggled. “Oh no, I could never wear something like that! And I would make a terrible pirate, I’m afraid of parrots.” Isabela put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight as they approached the Vallen household.

“So much Kitten, so very much.”

“I missed you too Isabela. Oh and Carver, though I see him every other day. He’s very helpful.”

“Is he?”

Carver shot her a warning look, Merrill missed it, but Isabela only smiled in return.

“Oh yes, he comes by most nights after he’s finished work to help rebuild the alienage. We get few volunteers and most of the residents are weak from hunger, or from being overworked, so progress is slow.”

“Thank the maker for big strong men like Carver. Putting those impressive muscles to good use.”

“Yes, it’s most helpful. He used to bring Fenris with him. He’s also been a huge help. Though he only helps because Hawke and Carver were helping. He’s not so bad even if he still refuses, to use my name, or really talk to me at all.”

“Oh, Kitten…” Isabela sighed and shook her head.

“Did I miss something again?”

“Not to worry kitten, I’ll tell you later.”

“It can’t have been something dirty. I’m getting better with that I swear.”

“See Carver, she’s getting better at being dirty, we need not worry.”

“Do you know how to mind your own business?” Carver snapped as the three of them stopped at the door.

“Oh, I don’t mind Carver, really.”  

Carver gave Merrill a forced smile, that wasn’t anywhere near as nice as his real one, but Merrill smiled back. It always shocked her that this sweet, caring woman was a blood mage. Takes all sorts.  The door opened before they could even knock. Donnic smiled at them.

“Isabela, Merrill, good to see you. Carver, any word from your brother?”

Barking drowned out his answer. Spot pushed past Donnic the huge Maribi nearly knocking him off of his feet. He barked as he ducked around Carver, looked to Isabela and Merrill then pushed past them as well. He stopped, his tail wagging as he looked around the empty street. That thing was far too smart for its own good. It gave a small whine and Carver moved to his side.

“Come on you, he’s not coming home. I told you, he doesn’t want you anymore.” Spot gave a low growl as it looked at Carver. Carver held up his hands. “Okay, fine, but he’s still not coming home.” Spot turned and headed back inside tail drooping and head down. He paused briefly before them to give them a chance to greet him then moped back inside.

“I’m not sure if that was cute, or creepy.” Isabela mused as they followed the dog inside.

“Annoying.” Donnic and Carver chorused together.        

“He happened to overhear us saying that G-a-r-r-e-t would be back soon, and every time that door opens he runs out to wait. Bloody headache getting him back inside usually. I’d just leave him out there but that doesn’t seem responsible.”

“It’s not responsible Carver.” Donnic frowned.

“Well, it’ll all be over tonight, at least. Isn’t Hawke coming home?” A happy bark followed Merrill’s words and both Carver and Donnic rubbed their eyes as a happy Spot bounced back into the room. He barked and pranced around before taking off further into the house, to continue to bark and bounce.

“Merrill.” Caver’s voice was chastising, but it lacked seriousness.

“Sorry.”

“Enough Spot! You will be sleeping outside if you keep it up!” Aveline walked into the room. Well, she waddled and Isabela nearly choked on her own breath. She smiled slightly when she saw them. “Merrill, Whore.”

“Well, I can’t call you a prude, because evidently you do put out after all.” Isabela couldn’t help but stare at her friend’s heavily pregnant belly. She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. She had always assumed they would have kids eventually. And that she would, of course, lead them astray and get them well acquainted with bad habits. She’d be the fun Aunt. Well… she considered this kid’s adopted family and felt a little sorry for it. Aveline and Donnic were going to be the only sensible influence in their life.

Varric would teach it to lie and spin wild tales to get out of trouble. Merrill would probably show it to garden, or tell it wild Dalish fairy tales. Fenris would be an inspiration in their teenage years, showing them just how to brood with panty-dropping efficiency. Carver would teach it how to kill darkspawn, she supposed. Then, of course, there was her and Hawke. She may be a pirate but Hawke was a living legend. And he was Hawke, who was arguably worse than she was. The number of terrible things that man could teach a child was endless. Though despite all that, that kid was going to be the most loved kid in all Thedas, and the safest. After all, it had a pirate, a guard captain, a blood mage, a grey warden, a spymaster, a homicidal Tevinter, and a living legend watching over it. Lucky kid.             

“I’m surprised we have never been standing in the opposite situation.” Isabela rolled her eyes. She was a pirate, they had ways of ensuring that didn’t happen. Then, of course, there was magic, not that she’d ever needed to go that route. Thank the Maker, and hopefully, she never would. 

“Unlike some, I’m careful.” She moved to hug Aveline, who surprisingly hugged her back. Her big belly made it awkward and challenging, but deep down they only snipped out of habit. Isabela may have even, kind of, just a little bit, liked her and her man hands. Merrill joined the hug and Aveline actually laughed.

“Come on, help me set the table will you, let the boys talk.”

 

 

Fenris

Fenris would admit it, it was good to be back. Even as they walked through the gallows, and he was once again reminded he’d been involved in its destruction, he still felt a connection to the place, maybe because he was an important part of the rebuilding efforts. Hawke walked backwards, a few steps behind Varric, Cullen and Fenris. His gaze roamed around, taking it all in. The last time he’d been here, they had only just finished clearing out the rubble, and old statues. A job they had both helped with. It had been the last part of the city to undergo repairs. He’d been sure to see to Lowtown and the docks first. People homes were his first priory. Which had annoyed countless nobles, but Hawke had been the Viscount so there was nothing they could do about it.

It had taken them, nearly three years to get to rebuilding and by the time they’d even started Hawke was long gone. Fenris had seen it when he and Carver had returned to the city. Shortly before he’d decided to go to Skyhold to find Hawke’s trail. So it was all new to Hawke. Fenris wondered if he felt the same joy at the homecoming as he did. Cullen glanced around also. He knew the former Knight Commander wasn’t recalling fond memories and warm fuzzies. To him, it had been a job, his duty. This place wasn’t a home to him any more than Minrathos had been to Fenris. Just a place they’d lived that they’d rather forget.

“I’d thought they’d be done by now, must say I’m a little disappointed.”

“Done, people have barely recovered from everything. First the chantry, then the rebellion, and the hole in the sky… think it’s safe to say we’ve had other problem to deal with.” Varric turned to look at Hawke as he spoke but the other man only shrugged.  Fenris couldn’t help but notice that people actually stopped, and moved out of their way as they passed. Some even inclining their head to Hawke, who didn’t even seem to notice. Fenris hadn’t considered what a big deal his return could become.

“It’s the Champion, and the Knight Commander, they have returned.” The mummer was loud among the others and that caught Cullen’s attention. He turned that disapproving look onto the person who had spoken and they looked away and went quiet. 

“Just a suggestion, but maybe it's best if we get you two off the streets. Let Kirkwall get used to the idea of having both of you back.” Varric moved protectively in front of Hawke as if he was in some kind of danger. The worst danger they were going to face was Hawke dying of an inflated ego, or smothered by all the adoration. From most at least.

“Good idea.” Cullen’s frown didn’t seem to want to move and, funnily enough, had been fixed in place from the moment they docked. It reminded Fenris of what he’d been like when they had actually all lived here. He’d never once seen the man smile until they’d met again in Skyhold. It seemed Kirkwall had that effect on him.

“To Aveline’s then, I’m starving and she promised food. And I have a little brother to annoy.”

Fenris sighed as he looked at Hawke. This would be a very long homecoming, he was sure of it.

****

            They knocked on the door to the modest house that Aveline and Donnic had started to rent only this past year. It was closer to the Barrack’s and, therefore, Aveline never truly had to knock off. Fenris himself had almost taken up her offer to become a guard a few times just to ensure she took some down time, but thankfully he hadn’t had to. He’d make a terrible guard, these days he was better at breaking the law than he was upholding it.

Donnic answered the door and smiled at the group of them. His smiled widened as his gaze fell on Fenris and he held out his hand to his friend. Surprisingly he and Donnic had gotten on better than he’d expected. Originally Donnic responded to a complaint of a squatter in a Hightown mansion, that had been given to him on patrol. But as soon as Fenris quite helpfully answered the door Donnic had recognised him as ‘Aveline’s friend right?’ after which Fenris had invited him in to join Varric and himself, who at the time had been playing Wicked Grace. They’d bonded over Fenris’s love of taking his money and some time in the time they had been gambling together, their weekly card game at Fenris’s mansion had turned into a friendship.

“Welcome, happy to see you all home….” He trailed off as his gaze fell on Cullen and he was quick to salute. “Knight Commander, it’s an honour sir, a surprise but an honour.”

“I’m not a Templar any longer, or am I of any rank. Feel free to call me Cullen. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Cullen got fired,” Hawke whispered like it was a big secret and Cullen merely frowned. He knew how much that must have grated on him. Cullen had been made knight captain when he was only eighteen, and Kirkwall wasn’t really all that nurturing to one's future career. It did help him win the position he’d just lost so I guess it wasn’t all bad for him. Though the man did have some rotten luck.

“Ah… well, you seem like you could use a stiff drink. Especially if you have been roped into whatever this lot are up to.” 

“That I do good man, that I do.”

“And what makes you think I’m up to anything?” the whole group rolled their eyes as a collective the second the question left Hawke’s mouth. When was he not up to something? Before Donnic got the chance to respond the thundering of big paws, wild barking and the shouts of Carver turned all their attention to behind Donnic. Donnic swore and dove out of the way as Spot charged right through the door at a full mabri charge. Hawke knelt and caught the noisy animal, getting thrown back a few feet in the process. Spot pinned a laughing Hawke to the ground and Hawke tried to stop the onslaught of licking while he caught the breath that had been knocked out of him. Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and just watched. It wasn’t his dog, after all. “Did someone miss his daddy?” Hawke asked in a baby voice as he pushed the huge animal off of him. Spot barked and bounced happily around him. Hawke grabbed his face and rubbed his head. “Who’s my handsome boy? You are. You are.”

“We’ve talked about this Hawke.” Spot’s head snapped toward Fenris and the look on the animals face made him regret speaking. He held up his hand and backed up a few steps. “No, Spot, down!” but it was for nothing the huge dog charged him knocking him off his feet and giving him the same treatment as it had his master. Fenris tried to fight off the onslaught but it was no use. Spot only listened to him when he felt like it. After all, he was Hawke’s Maribi, he was the one bonded to it, and only he had complete control over him. “Off you mutt, Hawke!” Hawke stood over them an amused look on his face.

“Aww, he missed you Fen.”

The dog barked happily, still pinning him to the ground. He could throw him off, but that risked injuring him and he didn’t want to risk that. The animal was just excited after all.

“Hawke,” Fenris said in a warning tone, just before Spot licked him up along the side of his face. He shoved at the dog’s big chest. Managing to get him away for long enough to wipe his face before the creature started licking him again. Hawke laughed and grabbed the bandanna tied around his neck. The second Hawke touched him the dog stepped backwards, towards its master.

“Come on boy, let him up.”

Fenris muttered curses under his breath as Spot barked happily at Hawke, and ducked down playfully toward Fenris wagging his tail. Hawke patted his head and he sat next to him, the picture of obedience while Hawke rubbed his ear, all the while smirking at Fenris. 

Carver, who had ran from the house after the animal looked just as amused as his brother, which was almost as infuriating.

“That’s the quietest he’s been all day.” Carver mused as his gaze turned to Spot. Spot wagged his tail but didn’t move. Hawke reached into Cullen’s bag causing the other man to startle slightly and pulled out a small sack. He tossed it at Carver, who fumbled but caught it before it hit the ground. Carver gave his brother a questioning look and opened the bag to look in. A smile moved slowly to his lips then he laughed softly, before looking back up.

“Two, that’s it, couldn’t Skyhold spare anymore.” Hawke gave him a sheepish grin, then lied through his teeth.

“Blame Cullen I tried to tell him they were yours. He just didn’t seem to care.” Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Hawke.

“I… it, I did no such thing!” Cullen stuttered out but Carver was already walking toward his brother. He shoved the bag into his brother’s chest and held it there.

“Nice try, I know you better than that big brother. You can keep them, they’re stale. Can’t do anything right can you?” Hawke laughed and grabbed his brother pulling him into his chest. Carver, despite the disapproving act he was trying to maintain, smiled and wrapped his arm around his brother, slapping him roughly on his bare shoulder.

“Missed you, just a little.” Hawke's voice was soft and Fenris barely heard it.

“Yeah well, I didn’t miss you. I was only waiting for those sweet rolls and you ruined it.”

Hawke laughed and pulled away.

“Hawke!” the voice was one that made Fenris grimace. Even after all this time he still wasn’t overly keen on Merrill, but she was Hawke’s friend so he ignored her the best he could. She often made that very difficult. Merrill shoved Carver out of the way and threw her arms around Hawke’s neck. Hawke hugged her back tightly, lifted her off her feet and spun her around. She was laughing when he put her down.

“By the dread wolf Hawke, what are you wearing?” Merrill as easily distracted as she was looked past him to see Varric. She smiled widened as she ran to hug him. “Varric I’m so glad your back!”

“It’s good to see you too Daisy.”

When Fenris looked back to Hawke, he froze and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t quite know what to do. Hawke stood stiff as a board with Isabella hanging off of him, her lips on his. She pulled away and made a disappointed noise.

“Well, that didn’t live up to fantasy. I distinctly remember you being much better at that. And after you come dressed for the occasion.” Isabella put her hands on her hips and frowned at Hawke. Fenris stepped forward and intended to ask when the last time they had kissed had been, but Isabella cut him off. “I’ll get to you in a second, we ae going to have a frank talk about you exaggerating his skill set.” Fenris felt heat rush to his cheeks and he knew better than to try and argue that he’d actually never told her anything of the sort. She’d just started to talk, and he’d not feel the need to stop her. She was quite fond of her friend-fics.

“You caught me off guard, and even though I adore you Izzy, and I can’t honestly never say I haven’t been just a little tempted, you’re just not my type.” Isabella scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Excuses, you are just a rubbish kisser. Fenris can keep you.”

Hawke got that look on his face, the one Fenris knew all too well. Was that man incapable of facing a challenge and walking away? Especially since Isabella was playing him like a Lute. Plucking so carefully at his strings. Fenris almost wanted to sigh, and it came as no surprise to him when Hawke turned to him with a sheepish smile.

“Forgive me.” And before Fenris even had time to object Hawke had grabbed Isabella by the waist and pulled her close. One of his hand cupped the back of her neck, the other rested at the small of her back ever so gently. They locked eyes, and Hawke’s lips were on hers within a second. Anger burned in his chest at the sight. He knew better than to be jealous, but that didn’t stop him.

Hawke’s lips moved in time with hers, he pulled her closer, as she wrapped her leg around his hip and he tipped her over his arm. Fenris crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. It was all he could do to stop himself reacting. Then their stance changed. Isabella fell into him and his hand twisted into her hair. He watched as the woman relaxed into his strong arms, her breasts heaving against his lover’s chest. Hawke, shirtless in only leather pants and a bandana, looked like the kind of man that could bring the pirate queen to heel. And that’s exactly what he was doing, Isabella was completely lost to him. Heat welled inside of him, and he couldn’t watch this. He hated that they looked to fit so well together. Hated that his very gay, very flirty, too handsome for his sake, lover, could fit with anyone other than him. A soft moan escaped Isabella and he knew exactly what Isabella was feeling. How good it felt to be in those big strong arms. How gentle and skilled that mouth could be. He’d felt it a hundred times and damn it, he was the only one that should!

A growl ripped from his throat as he stalked forward, uncaring of the spectators or the playful nature of the whole situation. He couldn’t tell if it was all in his mind or if it was as passionate as it seemed but in his anger, his jealousy, he didn’t care. He grabbed Hawke’s shoulder, pulling him away from the busty pirate wench. And stepped between them. He glared at Isabella as Hawke put a hand carefully on his shoulder.

“You’ve had you fun, back away pirate.” He gritted his teeth, to try and push down the anger. But he couldn’t. Hawke was his, he’d not wanted this, not when they had first met. But he’d be damned if he was letting anyone, anyone lay a hand on him now.  Isabella gave him a lovely smile, then looked past him to Hawke.

“Well, I was having fun. Damn Hawke, you sure you are gay?” She turned her gaze back to Fenris. “I’m still very much open to the idea of sharing him. Hell, you can even join in, I bet you know exactly how to use that anger of yours between the sheets.”             

“Down Whore, or I’ll just let him kill you.”

Fenris took a step back and was met by a wall of Hawke. The press of his body comforted him. And simmered down some of his jealousy. He wasn’t a clingy person though he wasn’t shy about public shows of affection either, he didn’t feel the need to hang off Hawke like some lovesick teen. Though right now, he kind of wanted to.

“Holy, makers left nutsack!” in a blink Hawke was gone. He pushed past them all to the house quicker than Fenris had seen him moved in days. He hugged Aveline, and when he pulled away, he laid a hand on her belly. “Why was I not told about this? You’re pregnant? I’m going to be an uncle!” he hugged her again, then pulled away quickly. “Why are you on your feet? You should be resting…”

“Hawke.” Her voice was warning, but she smiled at him.

“Right. Sorry, I’m just so excited.” He hugged her again, then turned and embraced a very surprised Donnic. He put an arm around Aveline’s shoulder, leaving his other around Donnic.

“We’re going to be a family. I call babysitting rights!”

“Hawke!” she warned again and he smiled and let them go. He practically skipped over to Fenris, grabbed his face and kissed him none too gently on the mouth. Smile beaming as he pulled away.

“We’re uncles!” he bent to pet Spot, and Fenris tried to stop his smile. He was still mad at the man, and no amount of this lover’s enthusiastic hyperactivity was going to correct that.

“Bloody Void, I told you to tell him. He’s like this with any baby creature. Remember that damned dragonling he almost brought home from the bone pit that time.” Hawke straightened and frowned at his brother.

“Geoff would have made an excellent addition to the Hawke family. Had you all not killed him.”

“He tried to eat you, you daft bastard!”

“So he had behavioural issues.” Hawke smirked slightly. The slight turn up of his lips went unnoticed to everyone but Fenris. He was goading Carver, and Carver was walking right into it. Strangely enough, he’d even missed their constant fighting.

“Fine, next dragonling we see is all yours. Don’t expect me to be coming to your rescue when it’s chewing your ugly mug off.” And with that, the Hawke siblings started arguing though it was somewhat tame compared to usual. Fenris shook his head, Izzy giggled, delighted, Merrill covered her mouth, Aveline rubbed her eyes and Varric gave a slight chuckle before stepping in to intervene. Just like old times.

 

 

 

 


	15. Solona

 

They were closing in. Surrounding her, pushing her back into the wall of the small, weather-worn building. Boxing her in. Or so they thought. Her back hit the wall, and it was go time. She smiled at the six bandits that thought they had her right where they wanted her, then quicker than any of them could have expected, she leaped into the air, grabbing the tavern sign above her head pulled herself up. In a move that had taken her years to master, she flipped over the lot of them landing effortlessly in a crouch behind them. The second her feet hit the ground, smoke filled the spot next to her and Zevran appeared out of the cloud, slitting two of the men’s throats before they even knew what hit them. She pulled the bow from her back and notched an arrow, charging both her arrows and Zevran’s blades with fire magic, she put an arrow through a thirds heart. There, that evened the odds a bit. The three men hit the ground in unison and Zevran spun the blades around his hands, blood splattering both of them, along with the remaining bandits in a gory show of force.

“My friends that is no way to treat a lady.” The assassin smirked and Solona knew he’d already marked his next victim. Whoever it was, didn’t know it yet but in a few seconds, they were as good as dead. As if on cue, the bandit on the end grunted and dropped to the ground, dead. The other two backed up, as Solona dropped the bow and grabbed out her own daggers. The pair looked between one another, realisation lighting their eyes when they realised just who they were dealing with.

“Okay, enough look We're sorry, we didn’t realise who she was.” The one closest to her said hand raised in a defensive gesture.  _Like that mattered_ she thought, it had been lucky it was her, and not someone who couldn’t handle them, Maker only knows what they even had planned.

“I was not the one slighted friend. My dear Warden, what do you say?” Zevran looked to her but it was all an act. She pretended to consider it for a brief moment before she raised her daggers, pulled them back and let them fly one after the other. The first struck the man that had spoke’s throat, blood spraying out to cover his surprised friend, as the impact turned him. The second struck only millisecond later, burring into the other man’s chest just under his shoulder. He was thrown backward to the ground just as his friend dropped lifelessly to the street. She walked forward, put her armoured boot, which had been well hidden by her long, flowing dress, on his chest, and ripped free the dagger, the man’s cry of pain was loud in the quiet night-time Denerim street. She pinned him in place, glaring. Her threat didn’t even need to be voiced, judging by the look on his face. Zevran laughed and took her side as half a dozen armoured boots clattered down the street behind them. “Conceder yourself very lucky my friend, but know there is no place for you or your sort in Denerim, next time you will not be so lucky.”

The man looked between her and the Assassin as if wondering if he was actually being spared, the clatter of boots drew closer. It was only a matter of moments now before the city guard was upon them. The man scrambled to his feet holding the wound she’d just pulled the dagger from. He stumbled and tripped off into the darkness of the maze-like streets and Zevran pulled her into his arms a huge smile on his handsome face.

“Your blade is poison coated, no?” she smiled then gave him a non-committal shrug as he felt the pouch at his hip. “You little minx, with my poison, none the less. You are getting very good at that, I barely noticed you take it at the city gates when you bent to pat that stray.” She sighed and here she thought his surprise has actually been serious for a moment. She’d get there eventually, she just needed more practice. “Fret not my dear Warden, I will make an assassin out of you yet.” And with that, he kissed her just as the sound of footsteps stopped behind them. A guard clearing his throat pulled them apart. She turned her glare on the offender and he gasped when he saw just who it was that had caused this carnage, yet not though to flee the scene.

“My apologies Lady Amell, the king didn’t inform us you had returned. I guess we have you to thank for dealing with that group. They have been giving the men trouble for a few nights now.” She nodded and looked down to the bloody mess behind her then shrugged. Zevran laughed again and pulled her closer to his side. “Well, I won’t keep you, I’m sure the king will be eager to hear his advisor and her…” he paused and Zenran filled in the blank for him.

“Charming, roguish companion?”

“Yes… well. He’ll be glad you returned.”

Solona smiled and elbowed Zevran in the ribs before winding an arm around him in return. It was late, they were both tired from their trip. Alistair could wait until morning to see them, but for now, they were heading to the Pearl, for a hot meal, warm bath and a soft bed, with maybe a companion or two, if they were still feeling adventurous.                  

****

Solona woke slowly. Her eyes hesitant to open. That was the best night sleep she’d had in a while, and she’d needed it. So much effort had gone into her last mission, and nothing had come of it. It had been draining. Warm breath stirred her hair as Zevran sighed and tightened his grip on her. She felt his face nuzzle into her back and she couldn’t be sure if he was actually awake or not. For the moment it didn’t matter, she could just enjoy this. It wasn’t often they had a bed to snuggle in. She relaxed into him, and she felt the press of his lips against her bare shoulder. She turned to face him and he gave her a sleepy smile.

“Good, you are awake I see. I feared I might just have to wake you.” His voice cracked and she took that for the blatant lie it was. Her stirring had clearly woken him, but he’d never admit that. He propped himself, straight blond hair, ruffled from sleep fell over his face and tickled her cheek as he leant down to kiss her. His kiss was so tender, soft and familiar. She was glad he’d come with her adventuring this time. Usually, if something important come up that the other couldn’t be involved in, they’d do the mature thing and go their separate ways. Like when she’d had to rebuild the Wardens in Ferelden, or when he’d run off to kill Crows in Kirkwall. They’d said their goodbyes, and hoped that life would bring them together again. It always did, somehow. This time, though, when she had said that they needed time apart he’d merely shaken his head, and for maybe the first time, at least on this topic, they’d actually argued.

Zevran wasn’t clingy, jealous or possessive, sometimes, especially in the beginning, his casual approach to their relationship had annoyed her. Over time, he’d changed, and it seemed that the saying about distance making the heart fonder was true in this case. Neither of them had ever stopped the other from leaving. They had just let it happen and hope they would return again. That’s why it had surprised her so much when he’d said.  “And what if that’s not what I want?” She’d had no response to that, he’d never challenged her before and to have it happen left her speechless. He’d said he was sick of the cat and mouse game they had been playing all these years, that doing it once again was more than he could bare. Where she went, so would he. It was either that or they ended it entirely he was sick of playing games. She remembered it like it was yesterday.

_She’d never seen Zevran so angry, at least not at her. She wasn’t even sure what had sparked his sudden ire. They’d had this same arrangement happen a hundred times in the years they’d been together. Why now was he suddenly so against it._

_“If you do not wish to be with me fully, then we shall not be together at all. It is that simple Solona, I tire of games, and I cannot play them anymore.”_

_She nodded, of course she wanted to be with him. Even in the times they had been apart she’d never been with anyone else, well there had been one other. But that had been a mistake. She made her choice all those years ago. Void bound, it was a sacrifice, she could have been Queen, Maker knows Alistair was keen, but she’d chosen Zevran. She loves him. She opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words. Nothing come out._

_How could she tell him what he needed to hear, when she couldn’t find the words. She’d never been good with words, liked her actions to speak for her. She cupped his face, his honey coloured eyes were so earnest. So unlike him, that it worried her. She willed him to know the truth, to feel that him leaving was the last thing she wanted, she’d thought he’d want it._

_“Marry me Solona, stop this foolishness and stay with me.” His words caught her off guard once again. Zevran was full of surprises today. Her breath caught in her throat as she studied his face for any sign that he was joking. Any sign that she’d just heard wasn’t real. Maybe she’d imagined it. There was none. Zevran had just proposed mid fight and she’d never been happier. A smile spread across her face and she nodded, her voice still lost to her. She kissed him hard, tears running down her cheeks. When he pulled away he smiled, that devil may care smile of his, and all seemed right in the world. “I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?”_

_Yes, it was a yes, it was a thousand times, yes, but instead of screaming that to the havens like she wanted to she kissed him again, deeper this time. The kiss felt more, somehow realer than it had ever been._

She kissed him back, cherishing the feel of him. She was not particularly upset that his would be the only lips she would kiss for the foreseeable future, however, long that ended up being.  Sure they’d never have the small farm, kids and a dog, somewhere north of Ferelden, but neither of them was exactly built for an ordinary life. He was and ex Antivan Crow, she was a Grey Warden, neither of which come with an assurance of a long, full life but that was okay, at least they got to be not normal together. Not that either of them really had the time to get Married, sure they could elope, hell they could even have Alistair make it official if they wanted, yet that seemed rather cruel. But even if she had no real family, she did have friends, friends that were now all over the place, but still she wanted to be able to share that with them.

“Come now, we mustn’t keep our king waiting. By now he surely knows you have returned. And I’m honestly surprised he was able to run this place as long as he has without you.” Solona laughed and stole one last kiss before Zevran dragged himself from the bed to retrieve his clothes. She laid there a moment longer, her thoughts turning to the letter the she had received a few weeks back, from an old friend. A letter she knew she should show Alistair. She recalled it’s words as clearly as if she were reading them.

_Solona,_

_We may have found a cure, Hawke is on his way to Lothering, get him to Denerim, then you’ll have your way in._

_I hope this one plays out._

_Your dearest friend,_

_Leliana._

This was the real deal. Lilly would never have told her about this otherwise and a cure was the very thing she’d been searching for all these months. She did want in, and her cousin would let her, even if he didn’t know it yet. The last thing she needed right now was hope, but she found herself hoping it played out as well, but in order for her to get to Hawke, she’d need help from the another best buddy. Another person that was very interested in a cure. Yes, it was about time that Hawke saw their king. 

_  
_

 


	16. Carver

 

The night air was warm, but every now and then there was a burst of refreshing sea breeze to break it up just a bit. Carver quite enjoyed it. The sound of his friends having a good time could be heard even from the upstairs balcony where he stood. With a sigh, he leaned on the railing and looked out over the residential side of the gallows. He knew he should be down there with them, but as usual, he just felt out of place. He called them his friends, but he’d always be Hawke’s little brother to them.

Likewise, this place had never felt like home to him, he couldn’t call it his city like Hawke could, but in truth he had no real home. Growing up, they’d never spent long enough in any one place for him to grow fond of it, well apart from Lothering, and Kirkwall was the only other city he’d spend any real amount of time in. The Wardens may be his brothers and sisters now, but he’d never felt quite at home with them either. Sure he was good at killing Darkspawn. And he’d claimed that he’d found his calling but really anyone could kill them. With a bit of skill, a good crossbow, a sharp sword or some magic. Even he and his brother had killed their fair share just trying to escape Lothering.   

Maybe it was just his attitude? Maybe deep down he liked being the outcast? It didn’t feel like it though. He’d bet none of them even realised he was gone. His brother was one drink past sober and the night was still young. Fenris was brooding, still sore from his brother surprise snog with Isabella. Even Carver didn’t blame him, he didn’t think his brother had that in him. Izzy was more than one drink past sober and was currently hanging off of Cullen asking him if he always looked this good. Cullen, who Carver could tell, was fast approaching the limit of his temper, was playing cards with Varric and Donnic. He’d been surprised to find out that Cullen was only a few months older than he was, he’d always assumed he was at least his brother’s age. Maybe it was because he was so serious all the time, or well, he had been in the few times Carver had spoken to him.

Truthfully, if the events that happened in the deeproads hadn’t happened and he’d not caught the blight, he probably would have ended up a Templar. He’d even spoken to Cullen a few times about joining the fold. He was surprised the man had left the order, but that just showed how far it had fallen. Or just how wrong the Templars really were. Spot, their ‘family’ dog, had followed him upstairs, just curious to see where he was heading, but even he’d went back to his master after a minute or two.

Carver leaned on the railing staring out over the city. Guards patrolled the streets, their lights visible from his vantage point. If he had long enough he was sure he could figure out their routes, because even in the few time he’d done this very thing he’d noticed patterns. Though before it had been hard to piece them together, seeing Aveline was smart enough to change it up. The last few months had been rough. The calling, the warden’s bogeyman, even if it had been fake had been unexpected. He’d not known what it was at first. It was like a ballad that had been stuck in his head, then it had begun calling to him. There was no real way to explain it. He’d never experienced anything like it before, and he wondered if that was as bad as it got. True, it never truly stopped, but when he was talking with someone, or if he was concentrating hard on something else he could almost tune it out. It wasn’t at all like he expected, and he surely didn’t feel the need to run off into the deeproads to find an archdemon, or die trying. There had been rumours that wardens further away hadn’t even experienced the fake calling, but he wasn’t sure how reliable that was. Oh, the Wardens did love their secrets. Not that it mattered, he’d run away, again. In truth, Garrett had dragged him away this time, but he’d not fought it as he should.

He doubted they’d come for him. The void knows so many Wardens died at Adamant, maybe they thought he was dead. Ironically many had died at the hands of his brother who had only been there because if it hadn’t been for them, if they hadn’t released Corypheus from his magical cage, none of it would have even happened. Not the hole in the sky, not the explosion at the conclave, not the fake calling, and not the Inquisition. At least, not as it was today. The inquisitor probably would have still been a rebel mage with nowhere to go but with the others. Who knows, maybe the Conclave might have even worked. Scary thought.

Yet life went on didn’t it? But that thought didn’t satisfy him in the slightest. His life was at a standstill. He was a farmhand, a freaking farmhand! And the farmer he worked for was a complete wanker. Acted as if Carver was an idiot. He was a lot of things. Moody, difficult, a deserter but not an idiot. No, Garret seemed to have gotten all the stupid genes. Well, at least, he acted like it sometimes. Like his little make-out session with Isabella. Did it in front of his boyfriend. Okay, Carver was a bit jealous, he’d give his left nut to make out with Izzy, but the difference between him and his brother was he’d, at least, enjoy it. Though from his experience, it wouldn’t take such extreme measures. He’d always regretted not taking her up on her many advances. He still remembered the blush on her cheeks, when he’d told her that wardens ‘tried much harder.’ It had taken years and he’d only ever managed once but he’d beat her at her own game. Then, not ten minutes later been rejected by omission as Merrill had once again failed to detect he was asking her out. Such was his life.

He sighed and straightened.

“Why are you up here alone Carver?” That voice, Merrill. He loved her voice. Her unique way of talking. Even though she could never go back to her clan, she was still so very Dalish. But it wasn’t just the voice that got him, it was everything. Her smile, her skin, her eyes. He loved her eyes, so big and bright. He’d always been fascinated with elven eyes. And yes, he’d always kinda fancied elves. Garret had teased him mercilessly about that fact when they were kids. Hypocrite he was. The second Fenris came brooding onto the scene his brother had gone weak at the knees. Carver would have to remind him of that.

Carver turned to face Merrill, she gave him a small worried smile as she studied him. “Is everything alright?” her question puzzled him for a second until he realised thoughts of what a dick his brother could be had left him with a frown.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a break. Too much Garret all at once.”

“I’m glad he is back, all of us being in the same place is nice.”

“Of course you would be,” Carver muttered. “Fucking Garret.”

“You two fight like an old married couple. Would have thought you’d grown out of it by now.”

Carver felt his annoyance building. “I will, when he does. He starts it. It’s like he tries to annoy me. Damned hard too.”

She giggled and the too sweet sound only annoyed him more. He didn’t want it to, he loved it when she laughed but he was sick of talking about his brother it was always all about Garret with them. It was like his relation to the eldest Hawke was the only thing that even kept him included in their social circle. He fucking hated it!

“But he does. He enjoys it almost as much as you do. And people say I’m clueless.”

“Clueless, you think I’m clueless. Not exactly the effect I was going for.”

“Oh yes, it’s adorable sometimes.”

“That’s better, I can live with adorable.”

She blushed and stuttered on whatever she was going to say. Big eyes meeting his, and a small smile turned up the corner of his lips. “You always do that, make me all flustered.”

“Because I think _that’s_ adorable.  You’re adorable.” He stepped closer as her blush grew brighter.

“Carver.” Her voice was chastising, but she didn’t mean it. No, her eyes told him that. He grabbed her waist and pulled her into him. She didn’t object, though it wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this. Her gaze roamed his face, while he studied her. The heat between them was almost boiling him alive. He gave in to the feeling building in his chest, and his lips met hers. They were soft and sweet, as they always were.

It wasn’t the first time they had kissed. It had been happening a lot lately, though he could never work up the nerve to take it any further. Make it anything else. What if she shut him down, pushed him away. He wasn’t sure he could handle the rejection. But in this moment her kiss was gentle, and her mouth moved with his, their tongues dancing in a long repressed waltz. He’d do it this time, he could make no promises that he’d return safely, but even still he’d ask her. He would.

She pulled away suddenly, leaving him reeling at her loss. Confused he opened eyes, he didn’t even realise he’d closed. Then he heard the voice.

“My apologies, I…” Fenris trailed off and Carver knew without even looking that he’d turned to walk off.

“Fenris?” Merrill stood to his side as he stepped around her to look at him.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I saw you leave and when you didn’t return….” He shot a glare at Merrill, only a small one, but they both caught it. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You what? Thought I was being used as a sacrifice in some blood magic ritual?” Fenris averted his gaze, and didn’t answer. “Fuck the Maker Fenris! You bloody did, didn’t you?” At least he had the decency to look ashamed by that fact, though he couldn’t tell if it was real or not. Carver shook his head and put an arm around Merrill.

“I apologise Carver.” And with that he turned on his heel and strode off, the slightest smirk on his lips.

“I’m not the one you owe an apology too!” Carver called after him but received no response. He looked to Merrill, who was watching the doorway.

“Well, he still doesn’t like me very much.”

“To be fair Fenris doesn’t like anybody much. He tolerates people. But he bloody well interrupted us on purpose and for that, and for being a dick to you, him and me are going to have a little chat. No one talks to my….” He shut up. There it was, what he wanted to ask, only he’d skipped the actual step of asking and just stuck his foot right in his mouth instead. He was wrong before, Garret didn’t get all the idiot genes after all. Merrill, Maker bless her innocent heart just watched him a little-confused waiting for him to finish. He cleared his throat, heat rushing to his cheeks. He didn’t have to do this, maybe they weren’t ready for this step. Maybe she just enjoyed kissing him. Maker help him, why was he such a coward? Why was this so hard for him? 

“Carver?” she thought he was an idiot, he knew. Standing there, like a fool, half a sentence still hanging between them and he was what? Blushing? Smooth. He cleared his throat again, words would come out this time.

“Fancy being my girlfriend, Merrill?” Not exactly how he’d imagined it. Well, actually nothing like he’d imagined it but he’d asked. And she’d backed up a step, staring at him like he’d just grown an extra arm. He needed to fix this. He stepped forward, and opened his mouth to apologise, or backtrack, or just bloody well ramble on until she forgave him. But a small smile turned up her lips and then she laughed and shoved at his arm.

“I was starting to think you would never ask.”

He laughed, feeling both foolish and relieved as he pulled her back into him. He kissed the top of her head, her hair smelt woodsy and fresh. Then he laughed some more as she wrapped her arms around him tight. He was an idiot after all.             

 

****

 

“You need to lay off Merrill.” Fenris put a bottle of wine to his lips and smirked as he turned his back on Carver, who had been looking for the moody elf since Merrill had gone back to join his brother and Izzy. He just knew Fenris had rolled his eyes at him, he could almost hear it. “I’m serious Fen, enough is enough. I’m not saying you have to be friends with her, but the least you could do is be civil. Can you do that?” he gave a dry laugh but didn’t turn to face him. Annoyed Carver stormed into the room, and around the elf so he could see his face. He knew better than to grab him. “She thinks you hate her.”

“I do.” He spat and Carver gritted his teeth. They’d bonded in the past few months. But sometimes he was worse than Garrett. There was no arguing with him, his temper was a lot shorter than his brothers, and he just knew if he pushed too far they would end up in a brawl.

“She hasn’t done anything to you, she’s only ever been nice. She is what she is and I know I’m asking a lot, seeing you do have the tendency to be a colossal prick about, well most things really, but I’m still going to ask it anyways. We agreed that we were kind of like brothers now. So I’m asking you as a brother, lay off.”     

“You do realise that I killed the last sibling of mine that sided with a blood mage, right?” Yes, he was well aware that his brother was dating a psychopath, but Carver knew he wasn’t unreasonable, as he knew that Fenris was only a dick to Merrill out of habit. They were never going to be friends, sure but he wasn’t a threat to her. Fenris sighed when Carver didn’t respond and took another long drink of his wine. “Fine, but make her stop trying to talk to me when I volunteer. I’ll be civil….” He spat the word like it was a bad taste in his mouth, Carver almost laughed as Fenris took a seat on the bed before continuing. “But, she so much as thinks of trying to interact with me I can make no promises.” Carver smiled as Fenris took another long drink before dropping the empty wine bottle by his feet. Carver sat in the chair nearest the bed and nodded. Fenris swore under his breath, in Tevene as usual. “I’m new to the whole family situation, but you’ll have to forgive me for worrying about you dating a blood mage. Forgive my crassness but couldn’t you just fuck Isabella, trust me when I say she’s not as loose as she acts.”

Carver’s jaw almost unhinged, no one had mentioned that Isabella and Fenris had been together. He’d always just assumed, well shit. And to top that revelation off Fenris just admitted to being worried about him. He’d finally worked up the nerve to ask out the girl he’d been crushing on for years. His brother was drinking like there was no tomorrow. Fenris had gone and developed things akin to emotions. And Isabella had slept with his brother’s boyfriend. The world had gone mad, it must have. Only in Kirkwall.

“Wait, you and Izzy?”

Fenris pulled a face that was almost revulsion, but it quickly changed into a smirk, when he’d seen the look of disbelief on Carvers face. 

“Yes, ale, wine and meaningless sex. There may have been some spite, anger and pity in there as well. I don’t quite recall.”          

“Like real sex? But she’s a woman?”

Fenris looked at him like he was an idiot and Carver was actually starting to think he might just be an idiot after all.

“No completely imaginary, we just sat there and drunkenly described what we were going to do to each other before passing out.”  His voice was so dry Carver almost didn’t want to laugh at that mental image. Though it was a better picture than the alternative. “And unlike your brother my tastes are varied, and less subjective.” 

“I just assumed, because of Garret….”

“No, until Garret I’d never willingly been with another…” he stopped and cleared his throat. “I do not want to continue with this conversation.”

“Yeah, okay, me either.” They sat in silence for a few seconds. Carver wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest anyways, even if he was willing to share it. He’d heard enough about Fenris’s past to be able to guess, and if he thought too much about it, it only made his blood boil. No one deserved to live through what he had. He was glad Fenris had gotten to kill his master.

“Did you push Hawke into finding a cure?” the question seemed to come from nowhere and for a second Carver couldn’t think of an answer.

“You daft? Why would I do that? I might not enjoy being a warden, but even I know there is no cure. I’d never ask him to find one because the daft bastard would drop everything and find one. Or he’d kill himself trying at the very least. So no, I never pushed him for a cure.” 

“Then why is this so important? He told me it was for you, he lied to me.”

Carver wasn’t sure if Fenris was talking to him or not but he really didn’t want to get in the middle of this. But when Fenris looked up expecting a response he had no choice. Maker damn him, he was the last person in the world people should ask for advice, of any kind really.

“Well, maybe it’s not a lie. Just because I didn’t ask him to find a cure for me doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want it. Maybe he got wind of it and decided I needed it. You know Garret, he thinks he knows what’s best for everyone and when something gets into his head, there is no stopping him. My question is why you would want to. If anyone can find a cure, it’s us, and that can only help people.”

“I have a feeling. I dunno, somethings not right. I can’t pinpoint what it is, I just know something bad is going to happen.”

Carver laughed, the wine had definitely gone to Fenris head if he expected otherwise.

“Of course something bad is going to happen. Something bad always happens when Garret’s involved. He’s a drama magnet. Lucky for us all my brother can hold his own. Besides, we’ll be there, and Cullen, I’m not sure you could ask for a better, deadlier posse.”

He didn’t look convinced. But he nodded. Carver didn’t know if he’d ever seen Fenris like this before. Though truth be told, until recently he’d not known much about the man. Other than he was sleeping with his brother. So maybe this was just a side he’d yet to see. Fenris worrying. It was a sight.

“Maybe you’re right.” Fenris stood and walked to the door. Carver followed him out. He gave a soft laugh. “Maybe I’m just getting to old for adventuring, novelties wore off.”

Carver wanted to call Druffalo shit on that one. Fenris was the last person he’d ever expect to stop loving the thrill of a new adventure. He’d told him himself not too long ago, but Carver saw the remark for what it was. An opening he was supposed to take. A way to steer the conversation away from things that he didn’t want to talk about. Garret would have taken it in a second. Maybe that’s why he done it, he was so used to it. Carver didn’t quite have his brother’s wit, or charm, but he’d try to oblige at least.

“Like I said you have Cullen and me. You two old dogs can just sit back and let us take care of things.  You know, in case you break a hip.”

Fenris laughed softly, and a small smile moved to his lips. It was the kind of response he’d been expecting.

“I’d watch what you offer because the next time we come across some red Templars, rogue mages, or bandits, I might just take you up on that. Wouldn’t want to dull my blade before it was needed.”

“Ha, like it would ever be needed. You really think I need your help in a battle?”

“No.” Carver stopped walking and just watched as the elf continued toward the stairs. He’d half expected an answer to the contrary. Garret seemed to think he was completely useless. He’d not expected Fenris to think any different. “But I’d give it anyways.”  

Carver jogged the few steps to catch him. He wasn’t sure what to say and the pair descended the steps in silence. At the bottom Fenris, who still stood on the bottom step, the small boost making them roughly the same height, gave him a little smile as he patted his shoulder. “Drinks?” 

“Yeah, but no wine.”

“You Hawke’s have no taste.”

“I dunno, we fluke it sometimes.”

Fenris gave another small laugh and stepped off the step. He walked toward the noise their friends were making and Carver followed. A small smile on his own face. Yeah, he liked Fenris, mostly.


	17. Alistair/Cullen

 

Was that it, was he done, Maker please let that be all of them. Teagan patted his shoulder as they watched the last person leave the room. He had to do this, many people had waited weeks for their audience with the king. But seeing how the entire realm was still recovering from the blighted hole in the sky, and many places were just getting back on their feet from the actual blight, he had nothing left to give. The kingdom would go broke, he’d already done what he could. He hated it, so very much, but the inquisition had been a life saver. Even if many of his subjects were deserting to go join the Inquisitor.

“Announcing her ladyship Solona Amell, Hero of Ferelden, Warden Commander, to the Ferelden Wardens and advisor to the king, and her companion. Mr Zevran Arainai, self-professed master assassin, and….” The announcer trailed off and Alistair stood as he waited for the door to open. His day, improving by leaps and bounds by the second.

Solona pushed open the door, shaking her head as she stepped in.

“You know, old friend, you should really hire a new announcer. He is very unprofessional. He refused to say ‘phenomenal lover’ and our lovely Warden friend here can attest to its validity.” Zevran gestured grandly to Solona as he spoke. 

“Right, because that’s going to happen. Teagan give the man a raise, he has some sense.”

“Still so uptight. Alistair you disappoint me, you are king, no? You have your pick of all the women in the kingdom, but still you….”

“Maker you are worse that Teagan….” It was a mutter but the look on the smug elf’s face and the glare on his uncle’s told him they’d both heard it. “And we’re not going there, thank you. Dismissed, all of you out, I need to talk to my advisor.”   Promptly all but Solona and Zevran left. One of the many perks of being king, most people actually listened to him now. As soon as the door closed he moved forward to embrace his old friend. Their relationship was a little more complicated than that but calling her that made it seem almost normal. He hardly wanted to be reminded that she had broken his heart and he’d never quite got over it. He had to give the elf a little credit. If their roles had been reversed he’d not be handling their friendship quite as gracefully. He held her tight, just to be sure she was real. Sometimes he felt a little useless stuck here in the capital while she was on the front lines. He’d been a warden longer than she had and he knew the dangers every time they called her away from him, he worried. He had no control over it.

“Boy have you missed out on all the fun while you were away.” She pulled away and fixed him with a stern look. “Okay, before you get mad, let me explain.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. Solona could be a woman of few words at times, but she hardly needed them. She could conquer a country with a look, that much he was sure. He’d often joked with his guards that she’d merely glared at the Archdemon, and it had had the good sense to drop dead. Many of them believed him. “Where to start, well I supported the mage rebellion, I thought you’d appreciate that. I gave all the refugee mages safe haven in Radcliff. Probably not my best decision, as they ended up giving it to Tevinter, but fear not I banished them. Learnt my lesson I tell you….” She raised an eyebrow. “Well almost, there is the matter of the Inquisitor, she worries me. Dare say she just might be the most influential person in all Thedas. She may be a problem, yet I can’t risk booting the inquisition from Ferelden because honestly they are better equipped to help my people than I am. They have support, manpower, magic and most importantly fame. We used to have that, you know. Now it’s all like ‘what have you done for us lately Alistair’. Do you know how many people have defected to join the Inquisition? I lost over half the royal guard, plenty of the city guard, more people than I care to count. If this inquisitor wanted to take Ferelden, I’d probably just have to give it to her, with that army it would be a blood bath if I didn’t.”

“The Inquisitor isn’t a threat Alistair.” Her voice always stopped his train of thought. She wasted no words in serious matters and he’d gotten the feeling this was one such matter. Had she learnt of his arrangement with Leliana and her eventual role? Maybe, but he doubted she’d be mad. They both loved Lilly. She was a dear friend to them both, even if she was with the inquisition. “Alistair, I need a favour. I may have a new lead on a cure but it isn’t exactly my lead. I need you to abuse your power and make my cousin come to Denerim. He’s has a very promising lead, and it’s in our best interest that I help follow it.”

He could hardly fault that logic. If you wanted something done, you sent Solona. If it were possible, she’d do it. But he couldn’t just make people appear especially people that didn’t live in his kingdom. He could summon him, of course, but Hawke was a marcher now. Last he’d heard he’d been Viscount of Kirkwall himself. He’d also had an enormous role in starting the mage rebellion and was rather notoriously bad with authority figures.

“Great plan, but one small issue, I’m king of Ferelden, not Viscount of Kirkwall.”

She gave him a knowing smile, and he should have known she’d already have a plan.

“He’s on his way to Lothering, from what I can gather he’s travelling with a rogue warden, a vint and Commander Cullen, of the inquisition.”

He mirrored the smile she wore and called for his guards. “Captain, I need you to send men out to arrest a Fereldan fugitive by the name of Cullen Rutherford. He’s wanted for espionage if I recall correctly. I want him and his companions brought to Denerim to face justice. Take extra men, I don’t expect them to come easily.”

“If I may your highness?” Zevran stepped forward with a small bow. “I have a relationship with his companions, I may be able to persuade them to come peacefully.”

Alistair looked to Solona, who gave a small nod. It was an unconscious habit, him turning to her for advice. One he was sure he’d probably never shake.

“Very well, Take the assassin and arrest the Champion of Kirkwall, Cullen Rutherford and anybody who is travelling with them and bring them before me at once.”

“Yes, my king.”

 Alistair and Solona watched the two men go.

“Well, this is going to be one family reunion I’m sure Garret and Carver will never forget.” Alistair laughed a little at her comment as he motioned to the door. She gave a curt nod and started in that direction, Alistair in tow. They had a lot to talk about, but first, he thought they could both use a nice stiff drink.

 

 

Cullen

Hawke stopped, all the colour washing from his face as he looked around. Lothering was just at the end of this road, yet his reaction puzzled him. He’d never once seen the elder Hawke look quite so spooked.

“Maker preserve me.” Carver dropped the shield in his hand and stared up the slight incline to a clearing beside a cliff face. Both the Hawke brothers broke away and slowly ascended the path, searching the area. Cullen looked to Fenris hoping the elf had the answer but he looked almost as lost as he felt. The pair followed the brothers, as they stopped in the centre, the earth scarred from a battle.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the makers will is written.”

Hawke kneeled, his hand running along the scarred earth. His lips moved though Cullen couldn’t make out the words. Carver stayed standing. Recital of the Chant, something Cullen was all too familiar with, put all the pieces together in his mind. He knew what this place was. Fenris swore in Tevene next to him, the realisation hitting him also. This was the place their sister had died. The place where they’d been forced to leave her body, in order to save the remainder of their family. They’d not been back since, and it was clearly hitting them quite hard. Fenris made his way swiftly to Hawke and placed a hand on his shoulder. Hawke raised a hand to cover his, a small smile moving to his lips.

Cullen had been so busy focusing on Hawke he’d not seen Carver begin to pace. Nor had he seen the younger Hawke draw his sword. With an anguished cry, Carver raised the weapon and brought it down onto a rock. Half the blade digging deep into the stone and splitting it with a labyrinth of cracks. He tugged at the sword that was now wedged deep into the stone but it didn’t budge. He kicked at the rock, but turned away from it, running hands through his hair. Hawke got to his feet, he placed a hand on the side of Fenris’s face and spoke far too softly for Cullen to hear. But the elf nodded and turned to walk back toward Cullen as Hawke moved toward his younger brother.

“Hawke expressed his wish for us to continue on without them for the moment. They will meet us in Lothering.”

“Yes, that’s an excellent plan. We can find an inn, or get a drink while we wait.” Cullen muttered as he turned away from the Hawke siblings. He’d not known loss like that. Not so personal. He’d lost mentors, and friends, even soldiers under his command but he’d never lost someone he’d loved. He could not help them, so him staying would only be an intrusion.

“No, they wish to meet at their old farm, if it still stands. By law the Hawke’s still own it.” That was probably a better option, and he was impressed that Hawke had the wits to think of such a thing, all things considering. Cullen nodded, and led the way, hoping his memory would be enough to guide them. It had been many, many years since he’d been to Lothering. And he’d never been to the Hawke’s property, but he knew where to start the search. He had no doubt that the Champions childhood home was well known, and that would make it somewhat easier to find.                   

“Maker guide you safely.” He’d been speaking to the brothers, but as he watched Hawke wrap a hand around the hilt of Carvers blade, he knew neither of them had heard him.

He and Fenris walked in silence. Usually, he’d be okay with that, but it somehow felt awkward. He and Fenris had been akin to friends during his stay at Skyhold. They had even sparred almost every day. Every other day if one of them had had a rather impressive victory. Even without the use of his markings, the elf could fight. Cullen could appreciate a fellow warrior.

“Is all of Ferelden like this?” His voice was gruff though it always seemed to have that slight touch of disdain. Even when he approved. Cullen got the feeling this wasn’t one of those times.

“No, well mostly. The lands suffered greatly from the blight. Even a decade on they still suffer. Lothering was once all farmland. Now nothing grows here.”

Cullen felt the need to defend his homeland. He’s always thought of himself as a Fereldan, even though the Templars could have technically sent him wherever he was needed. This was still his home. His family was here, his past, the good and the bad. All those memories were things he cherished. Even his time in the circle, or, at least, the beginning of it.

“I don’t see the appeal. Hawke speaks fondly of it. Merrill also, but I’d not trust her opinion. Anywhere that has helpless victims would look inviting to a blood mage.”

“She was a blood mage? Maker's breath! I let her into the gallows.”

“Anders was an abomination, you let him in also.”

“Yes, that one I regret. Hawke was the one apostate that I trusted. Even with knowing full well what he was. It was his influence that saved them both.”

“Hawke is unlike any other mage.”

“Not quite. I’ve met two others. Seems like they broke the mould after them.”

“Ah, yes the Inquisitor. I stand corrected.”  He paused looking at his bare feet as he walked. He’d never understood what he had against shoes. He’d never once seen him wear them. Yet no matter what they encountered he moved with speed and grace. “Have you received word? She was distraught the last I saw of her.”

“A letter sent through Varric’s channels. Leliana would gladly set up channels should I request it, but due to my current reputation and the sensitive state of our mission, it would be unwise.”

A passing merchant pulling a cart gave them a curious glance as they crossed officially into Lothering. The scattering of burnt, or just otherwise destroyed buildings saddened him. Or maybe it was thoughts of Evelyn. How he missed her. To leave her, especially now, after their victory was hard. But this was important. They kept walking, which was very tiring in full plate. The town, or at least where the town had been wasn’t far. Seeing they had spent two weeks at sea, most of that time with both him and Hawke in and out of consciousness, he was glad to see so much land. He still hurt, and when he’d awoken the first time, he’d been sure he’d no longer have his arm. But besides a few new scars he was whole, and would not let himself be disadvantaged like that again. So they would really have to stock up on healing potions. He wondered if Hawke knew anything about making them because with everything that was going on the prices of such things would be astronomical. And seeing that he was currently unemployed and despite travelling with one of the wealthiest men in all Kirkwall they still had very limited funds. Seeing all bank holdings of known apostates were currently frozen, thanks to the chantry. It had been a method to try and stop the rebellion. In his opinion, not a smart one, apostates or the ones that had been affected had rebelled from the system years ago. Many were unlikely to try and fund the rebels. Hawke especially. He wasn’t a fan of the circles, hence is apostate nature, but he also never wanted a rebellion. He’d tried to stop it, but it had been for nothing. He’d been punished right along with the rest of them. For all their sakes he hoped Casandra fixed that little issue soon. Because their mission would go nowhere fast without funds.             

Finally after what felt like hours they reached the place where Lothering was being rebuilt. Not exactly where it had once been, but he could see the progress. Many houses closer to the one building that seemed to be still standing from before, had been rebuilt. And a few of the smaller blockier buildings he assumed were shops of varying kinds.

He glanced toward the Chantry, it sturdy walls and welcoming building, a beacon in the centre of town. A small part of him was drawn there. Though he wasn’t sure if it was his faith, or if he just needed to see this reformed red Templar himself. He’d wait for Hawke, he decided and turned to one of the blockier building. The sign outside said Hout’s Armoury and they entered. Fenris browsed the display pieces while Cullen approached a boy, who was folding leather near the counter. An apprentice, he figured. Much too young to recall the old Lothering.

“Ello sir, welcome. What can I get cha.” The boy’s accent was thickly Ferelden, the kind he’d only heard in the rougher part of his homeland.

“Hello, I was wondering if there was anyone around that could point me to a farm that was here before the blight. It belongs to the Hawke family.”

“Boss, need you for a sec. He wants directions to the Hawke farm.” The boy yelled into a back room. A man poked his head out and smiled.

“Odd request, can I ask why?” The man fixed him with a stern look his blue eyes weary. Cullen suddenly felt oddly reluctant to mention the current owner of the property was back in town. As loved as the champion could be, he could also be equally as hated.

“I’m a friend of Hawke, my name is Cullen and I was asked to retrieve anything that had not been looted during the time after the blight.”

“Cullen Rutherford, inquisition. Formerly Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. I read the Tale of the Champion. Seeing you just helped save us all from the whole in the sky, I’ll help. Take the main path out of town. Keep going until you see a ruined well, at the well take the left path. It’ll take you right to the Hawke’s old farm. It’s mostly still standing. But anything happens to it, I will alert the guard.” The man disappeared without another word. Cullen nodded and thanked the boy before he and Fenris left.

The directions were good, Cullen had doubted them at first, but they had found the well, then after that, they had found the farm. It was the only one in the area. The property big, but still scarred from the blight. The once fertile lands looked as if they were recovering, but the barren fields gave the area a hopeless look. To even get anything growing in the area, they would need fertile soil from elsewhere and a lot of magic. Which he guessed explains why there was rumoured to be many mages settling on the barren land. He wondered what the siblings planned to do with it now they were sure it was still theirs.

The door wasn’t locked and the inside was mostly empty. Only the bigger items were still in place. The beds were mostly intact but he was still probably going to set his bed roll up on top of whatever one he decided to take for the night. The table in the small kitchen area was broken in half and a single chair remained, its seat missing the hide that had once housed a cushion. Fenris gathered up the bits of broken furniture and a ragged cloth that most probably had once been the curtain and tossed them into the fireplace. He pulled a flint stone from his bag and within minutes a warm glow filled the small room. They both sat on the ground near the fire, the air held the chill of late afternoon and its glow was the only thing fighting it off.  Cullen removed his armour, the cheap plate was heavy, and not very well made but it had been the only one Aveline could find that would fit him. He’d need a new set soon, but for now, it would have to do.

Fenris stood and searched the cupboards scattered around the small area. Many had no doors, but the few that did seemed mostly empty. Fenris made a surprised noise as he reached far back into one of the larger cupboards that still had a door. “There is a false wall back here.” Cullen watched as the elf all but climbed into the cabinet. Cullen watched as the false wall was plied from its place and tossed asides before the Elf all but disappeared again. When he emerged, he was holding a quiver and a bow. Runes glowed brightly on the wood and he examined it. “It’s runed, true aim, if I recall my runes correctly.” He turned it over in his hand placing in on the floor near his feet. “Well-crafted.”

Once again he disappeared into the cupboard pulling various knives and daggers from the hole. He strapped a few to himself and tossed the quiver to Cullen. Cullen caught it without managing to spill the arrows everywhere. Then he tossed him the bow. Cullen snagged it from the air with one hand ready for it this time.

“How is your aim human?”

“Fair, not the best in the land but I can hit a target at a hundred yards.”

“Much better than mine, come I’m hungry, no doubt you are as well. We should hunt.”

Cullen wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It had been such a long time since he’d hunted for his own food and he’d never done it with a bow. But Fenris was correct, he was hungry, and night time was fast approaching. Without money for meat, this was their only option. Cullen nodded and stood, opting to leave his armour for a more stealth approach.

Fenris stopped him as they stepped out of the door. Cullen pulling the partially broken thing closed behind them. He looked to the elf who fixed him with the cockiest smile he’d ever seen. “Do try not to miss, we only have eight arrows.”

_No pressure._

   

                        

              


	18. Hawke

Home sweet home, well kind of. It was actually more like home sweet shack. Did the five of them actually live here once? It was the size of his bedroom in Kirkwall. My how times have changed, far too much maybe. He didn’t want to go there, wounds were still too fresh.

“I remember this place being bigger.” Carver stopped next to him as they looked at their childhood home. The empty sheath on his hip a reminder Hawke tried to ignore.

“I dunno, it’s quite homey, knock down four of the walls, and build a few new ones. It has potential.”

“There are only four walls, brother.”

“I know. But look Carver, the land is quite huge, imagine the house that could fit here. It could even have a mote, maybe a drawbridge, oh, and a dragon! Though that might be a tab bit unsafe, definitely a dragonling, at the very least.”

“Are you absolutely positive we are related?” Carver walked toward the rundown house. It had clearly not been rebuilt when the blight rolled through. Hawke jogged a few steps to catch him. 

“Almost certain, you’re not quite as handsome, charming, dashing, or heroic….”

Carver cut him off with a laugh. “Let’s not forget anywhere near as humble, brother.”

“Naturally, but you are clearly a Hawke. It’s undeniable.”

“Unfortunately, fine, have your castle. I’ll keep the mansion in high town.”

“On second thought, this piece of paradise is all yours brother. I’m almost positive dad wanted you to have it. In fact I’m sure he wanted me to live in a mansion.”

“Yes, I bet he dreamed of the day you shared that mansion with a dog and two former elven slaves.”     

Hawke gasped and stepped in front of his little brother. Pointing a finger into his chest. “You leave Orana out of this! She is an angel and does not deserve yours, or father’s judgment. I’d be lost without that woman. Who would clean my mansion, or cook terrible breakfasts and laugh at all my wonderful jokes?”

“I was under the impression you were an adult brother.”

“Me? Perish the thought, and Fenris isn’t going to bloody well do it now is he.”

Carver actually laughed and pushed his hand out of the way. “Oh maker, if you ever decided to ask him, please let me watch.” Hawke cracked a smile as he watched his little brother walk off. It was good to see him so together again. He’d not ever seen his brother brake down as he had, but Bethany had been his twin. His loss, was deeper and as children they had been inseparable. Carver continued down to the small house, who’s chimney smoked already but Hawke just stood and looked around what once had been a yard. There had been a crop of wheat to the right of the house. A dog house and pen to the left. Just down the now grown over path behind the house was a well that they used to race to. And to the far side of the area that had once been fenced off was an apple tree. That used to be Hawke’s favourite spot in the whole world. It was where he’d had his first kiss, and his second first kiss. He liked to count them both. He walked toward the tree, when he stopped under it he distinctly remembered it seeming taller when he was younger. He ran his hand along the carving of his name in the trees bark. Under it someone had carved the word traitor, but it had been crudely etched out the word still recognisable. Below them both was the word ‘Champion’. Even here he couldn’t escape all the things he’d done.

He sat under the tree, like he had a million times. His body ached, and burned, while his head pounded. He could feel his mana thrumming. Fighting, a losing battle inside him. He sighed and reached into his bag. Thankfully he still had smuggler contacts in Kirkwall, and even after the fall of the Templars, or maybe because of it they still dealt with raw Lyrium. He pulled out one of the vials that he’d paid entirely too much for and stared at its glowing liquid. He was thankful that it required little of the raw stuff to make him feel himself again, but even he knew this was just prolonging his suffering. The void only knows, maybe he was even making it worse, but it did mask the symptoms.

He popped the cork and took a quick mouthful, swallowing as fast as he could manage. Pain tore through him, the powerful burn of too much magic, made him grit his teeth. Every cell in his body caught alight as the sudden burst of power tore through him. It was like a Lyrium potion, only a million times worse. Like the feeling Fenris’s markings gave him, when Fenris used them to power him up, only it didn’t have the advantage of looking at his handsome elven lover. He felt for Templars, if they had to endure this just to stop them self from going mad.

The pain was over quickly, well sort of, and Hawke closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the tree. The effects of raw Lyrium, lasted hours, the pain was lingering, but weak, easily ignored. Though he’d have to tell the others soon, Fenris especially so. He was at the greatest risk after all. Yet there was still time. And for now he decided to think of happier times, to take this moment of peace before the storm he was sure was ahead. Come tomorrow they’d have their answers, and they’d either be on their way to find the cure, or slinking back home defeated. Either way it was the beginning of the end and he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept that just yet. In fact he was sure he wasn’t so instead he turned to memories of a simpler time to lose himself in.

****

_Her lips were soft against his, soft as her skin. But neither were anything more than fact to him. Kaylee was beautiful. With long golden hair and big bright eyes, he could see why all the boys in the town lusted after her. They had been friends ever since he’d moved to Lothering. So as they got older, and they both began to change, it seemed like the natural progression. Or at least that’s what his other friends had told him. Thinking that maybe he needed more time, he went along with it, because he did love her, only more in the same way he loved Bethany._

_“Garret, what’s wrong?” He pulled himself from his head, realising he’d not kissed her back. He didn’t have it in him today._

_“Sorry love just thinking. Wait, where is Carver and Bethany?” he had a moment of panic as he suddenly realised he could no longer hear his siblings playing.  Quiet meant one thing, they were up to no good. He made a move to spring to his feet, but Kaylee put a hand on his chest. Stopping him before he could move._

_“Don’t worry, Reid, my brother, took them down to the river to play? I told you that, we are supposed to go meet them. Your head truly is with the maker today.”_

_He gave a small laugh, then hefted Kaylee off of his lap. Relief filling him as he recalled Kaylee telling him that. But at the time he’d not paid much attention to anything after she had said her brother’s name. “Come love, we better catch up.”_

_The section of the river they walked to was deserted, save his younger brother and sister, and supposably Kaylee’s older brother. Yet as Garret scanned the area, he couldn’t see the other boy. Reid was nineteen, a few years older than Garret, and worked as the black smith’s apprentice. He’d only seen the guy a few times, but never truly met him, as the older boy usually worked late. And it was indecent of Garret to be at Kaylee’s house at such hours, yet in the brief times he’d seen him he’d taken Garret’s breath away. Every bit as beautiful as his sister, yet much more unattainable. Garret often found himself thinking of the other boy. Longing for him to speak to him, notice him, give him any attention at all. Even if he knew he shouldn’t._

_Bethany giggled as she was lifted out of the water on the muscled shoulders of Reid. Garret’s breath hitched as he watched the other boy, smiling brightly as he tossed his eleven year old sister into the air with ease. Reid’s short blonde hair sent rivulets of water down his face. A face that was all angles and lightly stubbled. Water glistened on smooth skin, slightly more tanned then his sisters, and in Garret’s imagination nowhere near as soft. No, Reid was all hard muscle, rough, calloused hands sculpted from hard work. Garret had to avert his gaze, as not to stare, he couldn’t leer at the girl who was supposed to be his girlfriend’s brother. Not openly at least._

_“Well look who has finally decided to join us. Munchkin, Trouble, your brother, Garret has arrived.” Bethany smile and dived into the water swimming to shore and running to greet him with a hug. He bent and hugged her back as he tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest. Maker, Reid knew his name._

_“Join us Garret, the water is lovely.”  Garret shook his head as he stood. Idly he noticed Kaylee stripping down to her smalls to join in the fun._

_“Please.” She gave him a smile that would have melted any other man in existence. His gaze fell to her breasts quickly. Not that they held any interest for him, but he could see why she was so sort after. Her curves were well beyond her years. She took hold of his shirt, that same smile on her face. He stopped her, not meaning to, but unable to stop himself. She pouted at him and walked to the river as he took perch on a rock. Content to just watch. Carver on the other hand seemed just as content, and a bright blush lit his cheeks the second Kaylee’s under shirt got wet. Garret couldn’t help but take the piss just a little._

_“Her eyes are slightly higher, little brother” he called over to the river. Kaylee smiled at him but Carver, turning the colour of a tomato ducked under the water. Kaylee splashed him when he finally surfaced._

_“Are you really just going to sit there?” Garret looked up. His breath leaving him for a moment as he was face, to well, ah, chest with Reid. Garret felt his own cheeks heat as he stared, unable to look away. When his eyes finally did manage to make their way up to his face. The other man cocked his head at him, curiously. His smile set every one of Garret’s nerve ending alight. Maker help him be strong. He opened his mouth to speak but his voice broke, and he promptly shut it. Averting his gaze before he cleared his throat and tried again._

_“I’m fine just watching.”_

_“Garret, don’t make me throw you over my shoulder. You’re a big boy, but I could take you.”_

_Garrets heart fluttered in his chest. Oh yes, he could take him, whenever he wanted in fact, Garret wouldn’t even put up a fight. He felt his blush brighten, there was no stopping it, his mind and body were betraying him. Any second now Reid would figure out the truth, call him on it, ruin his friendship with Kaylee and tell the whole town the truth. His parents would be so disappointed._

_Yet when he looked up, he saw something he’d never seen in another man’s eyes before. He’d seen it before, after all he was a good looking lad, and he’d filled out well, thanks to the hard work of maintaining the farm, but he’d never seen that look in a man’s eyes before. His throat ran dry, he wanted to leap to his feet and take the other man’s mouth, but maybe he was mistaken. Only seeing what he wanted to see. “Clothes off, that’s an order.”_

_The other man crossed his arms over his chest as Garret stood and lifted the hem of his shirt over his head. He could feel the other man’s eyes on him, his gazed giving him cold shivers. Garret couldn’t help but wonder what his hands would feel like against his body. He bet they were calloused and rough and that thought excited him, a little too much. When he was down to his smalls, the other man laughed and backed up a step. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” He winked at Garret and it nearly sent Garret week at the knees. “Last one to the water is it, little boy.”_

_Despite his heart’s inability to maintain a normal rhythm, he did have fun. And it had been dusk by the time they had all decided they should head back. Mother was going to kill him for keeping the twins out so long but he hadn’t wanted to leave. The river was just behind Kaylee’s household. Meaning Garret and the twins still had a ways to walk home. They said their goodbyes. But Reid’s voice interrupted them._

_“Kaylee, head inside, I’ll escort Garret and the twin’s back home.”_

_She nodded and threw her arms around Garrets neck and kissed him. Only this time he kissed her back, in a way he never had before. His body was charged, yet it wasn’t delicate soft lips he was kissing in his mind. He pulled away quickly, feeling like he had cheated her somehow. He could feel Reid’s eyes on him, he was hyper aware of it in fact, and his nerves were running wild at the thought of him walking him home. He knew that he had to end things with Kaylee, today had made it abundantly clear that his interest lay elsewhere, as he’d always expected they had. It was unfair, and he wouldn’t do it to her any longer._

_“I’m sorry.” He was apologising for so many things, he wasn’t even sure what it was for anymore._

_“Don’t be, I’m not mad.” She kissed his cheek and ran off toward her house. The twins walked ahead of Garret and Reid. Playing tag and fighting as they always seemed to do. But all Garret could think about was how close the other man seemed to be walking. Every now and then their hands would brush, and Garret could have sworn that he’d done it purposely. They didn’t speak a word on the way home. They pushed open the back gate, and the twins ran toward the house at a sprint. Garret gave Reid a small nod of thanks and went to follow. Reid grabbed his arm. The contact sent sparks throughout his whole body and he turned to stare into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen._

_“Can I have a moment?”_

_Garret nodded and Reid dragged him behind the apple tree near their gate. He’d only gotten a glimpse of Carver looking back at them, over his shoulder before the tree blocked his view._

_“”Is everything alright?” he tried to act causal even though every cell in his body wanted the other man. Yet he still wasn’t sure that all the signals he’d picked up on weren’t entirely of his own creation. He did have a very vivid imagination. Reid studied him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, as he stared at Garret. Garret shivered under his gaze, he wasn’t sure he could keep this up much longer. Without warning, Reid leant in and kissed him. The kiss wasn’t the soft and attentive ones of his sister. It was rough, filled with need. Garret responded instantly. Parting his lips, hungrily, his hands wrapping around the other man. Reid pushed him back against the tree and pressed the hard length of his body into him deepening the kiss. Their hands moved, gripped and groped at the other’s body, and Garret felt weak, yet powerful under his touch. He’d never had anything feel so right before, even though he knew it was wrong. Garret heard himself moan, and Reid simply deepened the kiss in response. Every sense was alive, pulsing and tingling. He’d never felt this way, his heart hammering, his breath lost, his body so submissive. This was how it was supposed to feel, he knew it then. Reid pulled away. Leaving Garret reeling and wanting more._

_“You will end it with my sister, I won’t see you hurt her.”_

_“Tomorrow, I swear it.” Reid gazed over his face, his hand moving to cup his cheek._

_“Maker, you are beautiful. Kaylee talks about how handsome you are all the time. As does most women in town Master Hawke. They are not wrong.”_

_Hawke felt himself blush. He’d heard it before, but that was the first time he’d actually felt as if it was true. He could see the want clearly in the other man’s eyes now._

_“You’re not exactly a troll yourself, you know.”_

_He smiled, that smile which made Garret week at the knees._

_“Can I see you again?”_

_Garret wanted nothing more. But before he got a chance to say it, his father’s voice sounded from near the tree. “Garret, are you back there?” Reid stepped away quickly just as Malcom Hawke stepped around the tree into view. He looked between his eldest son and the other boy saying nothing._

_“Father I was just… that is, we were….” His father held up a hand._

_“It’s quite alright Garret, say your goodnights to your friend and come along. Nice to see you Mister Huot.”_

_“And you Mister Hawke.” Reid said as his father walked back toward the house. They waited until they heard the door close before either of them dare speak. Garret, knew is father knew, his father was to smart not to figure it out. Besides he must have over heard at least some of what they had said._

_“I still want to see you again.” Reid said breaking the silence that had fallen between them._

_“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” The other man kissed him once again._

_****_

Reid, his first well, everything. They’d been together for two years and he remembered those times fondly. Kaylee had forgiven him eventually. And she’d even come to accept his relationship with her brother. That was the night he’d been forced to tell his parents the truth, though as he’d figured, his father had already worked it out. They had accepted him, loved him for who he was. And they had accepted Reid, and had treated him no different than they had Kaylee. He and Reid had ended on good terms. They had even gotten the occasional drink together, before the blight. He wondered if Reid had survived the blight, if he had he should definitely look him up one last time, while they were in town, ask him to get a drink with Fenris and him. If that was alright with Fenris of course. Maybe he wouldn’t tell him they were ex-lovers, though if he found out, that would be way worse. Either way, it had been a long time. And this was possibly the last chance he’d get to see old friends. He had to try.

 


	19. Fenris/Carver

 

Hawke sat behind him in front of the hearth. His arms wrapped around his waist, his legs around his hips. His head rested on Fenris’s shoulder, his warm breath ruffled his hair. Carver had already retired to the room, that he and Hawke had shared as children and Cullen had taken Hawke’s childhood bed. He and Hawke had gotten his parent's old room, yet neither was tired nor was the house big enough to use the bed for other reasons. So he’d have to be content with this, and strangely enough, he was. They didn’t do things like this often, and in years past Fenris had been okay with that.

“It’s so quiet in Ferelden.” Fenris mused as he listened to the bugs chirp, and dogs bark in the distance. The noises were strangely comforting, so different from the place they called home. There was always something going on in Hightown. It was never just quiet.

“Hmm.” It was less of a word, more a noise as he leant in to kiss his neck. Fenris tipped his head to allow him access when he felt the other man’s warm breath ruffle his hair. “Would you live here?”

Fenris turned his upper torso so he could look at Hawke, to gauge whether the other man was joking or not.

“What about Kirkwall?”

“I never said we’d have to leave Kirkwall. You have the old mansion in Hightown, this could be like a holiday house. I’d have this one demolished, build one of our own. It could be a place where I don’t have to be the Champion, you don’t need to be a former slave.  We can be just Garret and Fenris. No one would know us. I dunno, could be nice.”

Fenris gave a dry laugh. It was all he’d ever wanted. To escape the chains of his past, but he’d given up on that years ago. They made him who he was, shaped him, not necessarily for the better but he couldn’t escape them. But no matter how he shaped it, how it was told, they changed him but Hawke was the reason he’d made it to this point. To the point where he could acknowledge and accept his past. He’d been there for him, helped him when he’d had no one else. And now he wanted nothing more than to repay him. If it was what Hawke wanted, he wanted it. “You do know how to proposition a man, Hawke.”

“That I do, always have.” He kissed his neck again. “Damned shame we have guests. Guess we’ll just have to wait until I finish that mote that should keep them all away. Then there is the dragon. I’m near positive I could bound one to my will.”

“I sincerely hope you are joking, mage.”

“Mostly.”

Fenris laughed and shook his head. “You are ridiculous Hawke.”

 

****

 

The town was, well he’d hardly call it a town. It was more of a village. Mostly farm land from what he’d already seen. The city centre was a tavern, two shops, and the chantry. He’d never have guessed the almighty Hawke had had such humble beginnings. He looked back at his lover who was absently rubbing his now bare jaw. He’d not ever seen his lover clean shaven, not once. So he’d not quite reacted the way Hawke had expected when he’d seen him this morning. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, it was just so very different. Yet he had been blown away by how handsome his lovers face truly was. Not that he hadn’t thought so already, it was just he was prettier than Fenris had expected. His features softer under all that scruff. He looked years younger, and almost like a new person. To top that off he’d also gone and cut his hair. Fenris had been fond of his messy locks, now they were, well just as messy, but much shorter. And the resemblance to Carver was uncanny. Though Hawke was prettier. He’d never thought he’d explain his lover that way. But it was the best he had. He wasn’t sure what prompted the change, but it had taken away his iconic Champion of Kirkwall look. The longer he took him in, the more chance he got to study this softer side of Hawke, the more he liked it. In fact, he was inclined to say it was growing on him.

Yet the fact that he was almost unrecognisable as the champion did nothing to help them blend in. In all honesty, they stood out like a nug in a brothel.  So it came to no one’s surprise when they were stopped by Templars even before they had reached the chantry.

“You boys are well equipped, where are you heading?” Fenris looked to the three native Ferelden’s to have an answer for that but they stayed silent.

“We were heading to the chantry. Is it not a place of sanctuary here?”

“It is Vint, but you’ll find no influence from your black divine here. Now I’ll ask again, what is four, heavily armed men seeking refuge on, this fine day.”

“May I speak master?” Fenris gritted his teeth. Oh, he was going to kill Hawke the second they were finished in this chantry. He’d do it the second they got away from these Templars but he’d hate to draw unnecessary attention to them.

Fenris knew how a master would react, and he hated that he, of all people, would have to step into their shoes. He and Hawke were going to have a very long, possibly violent talk about this later. But despite that, he knew that this convoluted plan of his would work, which was probably the worst part of all. He fixed Hawke with a glare that was entirely real. He played up his accent a bit before he spoke.

“No, you may not! I will handle this!” Hawke gave a deep bow and backed away keeping his gaze averted. Not entirely correct, but Fenris hardly felt like correcting him. Carver and Cullen straightened, faces stern and looking off into the distance. They’d also evidently caught onto the rouge. Fenris clasped his hands together. And drew from Hawke for inspiration. “Gentlemen, please I do not wish for there to be a misunderstanding. Let me introduce myself.” He swept himself into a grandiose bow, low and proper, just as he’d been taught. “My name is Leto Wolfe, merchant. Most recently from Qarinus. I have traveled far to petition your king for trading rights. The fool who seems to have forgotten his place, is my indentured servant, while the other two are hired mercenaries to ensure safe travel through your…” he paused and looked around. “Quaint country. So, if that is all may I continue to morning prayer, or not?”

The two men, who were now focusing on him quite souley and very disdainfully, looked between each other. Then nodded.

“Fine, but don’t be starting any trouble, Tevinter.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Fenris reached back and grabbed Hawkes arm roughly and dragged him forward as they passed. “Fasta vass, venhedis, vishanti caevas.” He growled just loud enough for the Templars to hear him. Though that wasn’t solely for their benefit. He needed that.

“Bravo Fenris, Varric would be proud.” Hawke didn’t even try to hide the amusement in his voice. 

“Kaffas, you do not get to speak to me mage!” he snarled under his breath.

“While, rather unorthodox it was not the worst idea. It would pay for us to go unnoticed. We should seriously consider continuing this charade, it could work to our advantage.”

“You, do not get to speak to me either Templar.” He growled as he let go of Hawke’s arm as they entered the gates of the Chantry.

“I’m with Fenris on this one, besides the fact that making him, of all people, parade around as a slave owner, is cruel. He isn’t nearly charming enough to be a merchant. And it would only be a matter of time before he got sick of acting and killed someone because they looked at him wrong.”

Fenris wanted to be offended, but Carver was right. He’d not be able to calm his temper while acting like someone he’d hated his whole life. Though he’d be able to do it convincingly enough. He remembered very vividly how he was treated, but he hardly wanted to.

“I admit, it’s not perfect. But discretion is essential. It’s why Cullen left the inquisition. The less suspicion we raise, the better. Meaning from here on out, concealed weapons only, and civilian clothes.” Hawke looked between them all. “Cullen and Carver, we’ll get you some merc armour.”     

“Shall we buy you a collar, anointed with runes to quell your magic?”

“Kinky?”

“No, it loses its thrill factor after it starts to rub the skin off of your neck. And all of the most dangerous pets are leashed. I have the scars to prove it! This is no joking matter. I will play a ruse, but I refuse to go along with that one.” Fenris walked off, leaving his companions there. All things considered, he’d handled that far better than he would have previously. He’d actually even managed to play along without it bringing up something that should really stay buried but he knew how limited his acceptance really was.

When he’d decided to hunt slavers and free slaves, he’d not pitied them, not even felt sorry for them, he’d just felt anger. He hadn’t been doing it to help these people, he’d been doing it to help himself.  It was the very same reason he didn’t talk to Orana and urged Hawke continually to allow her to move on. Sure she was free, in theory, but was she really? What was she doing now, that she wasn’t doing as a slave, earning coin? Even with that Hawke often had to buy her items like clothing, and books because she still does everything to please him. Secretly, or well not so secretly he liked it. Which annoyed Fenris to no end. But all thing said and done, she was still a slave, only she no longer had her shackles. And if it hadn’t been for those fog warriors all those years ago, if whatever in his mind hadn’t clicked and he’d not realised that life was so much more than fulfilling his master's will, he’d still be a slave. It was that simple. And that fact annoyed him more than anything. He’d allowed everything that had happened to him to happen. He could have stopped it, but he didn’t because he was a slave and didn’t know any better.

Danairous may have wanted him back, but by hunting him, he’d given Fenris something to fight for. Reason to keep fighting. He’d not wanted freedom, not in the beginning. Being free was hardly easy. As a slave, you have everything given to you. Clothes, food, shelter. It wasn’t precisely the lifestyle he’d grown accustom to but he’d not wanted for anything. in most cases anyway. It was no longer the memory of his masters actions that boiled his blood, it was the knowledge of his own inaction, that he couldn’t deal with. 

And that knowledge was what had made him walk into a chantry without the rest of his posse. The sister looked up from her prayers, her gaze a little startled as was a common reaction, but it dissolved and she stood to make her way over to him. Thankfully Cullen picked that moment to enter the Chantry. Her attention was promptly on him, because unlike the Templars outside she clearly recognised him.

“Commander, what brings you here. is there something we can do for the inquisition?”

“Actually, no. I’m here to speak with the former Red Templar. Offer my support. It's not commonly known, but I am no longer taking lyrium and am helping other former Templars who no longer wish to be a part of the order, take those steps if they wish. These are my companions, Garret Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. Carver Hawke, former Grey Warden, and Fenris, mercenary. Each is uniquely qualified to offer assistance in various ways.”

“While we thank you for your offer Commander, I am unable to show you the young man, he does not wish…”

“It’s okay sister. I know him.” A man stepped from the shadows and Fenris felt his markings flare up. Only he’d not been responsible for it. he studied the man walking toward them. He looked healthy, but the Lyrium in his skin pulled away. Like it was repelled. Red Lyrium, he’d been a red Templar alright. Fenris took a few steps back. Then a few more. The man stopped near Cullen and smiled. “It’s been a long time Cul. How’s leading the army that just helped save the world feel?”

“Fulfilling, but it’s only sheer luck I’d left the order when I did, or that may have been a very different tale.”

“Very different.” He looked to Fenris, and once again Fenris’s markings burned. He didn’t want to leave but the longer he stood there, the more pain he was in. the man felt like a Red Templar, yet looked nothing at all like one. This cure was slow acting, Fenris figured. Not magic, or at the very least not overly powerful magic. That puzzled him, if he’d have to place bets, he would have put all his coin on the cure being magical. If it were alchemical someone would have figured it out long before now. “I’ve read your book Champion, recognised the three of you from its tales.”

His gaze flicked to Hawke just as he started to speak. The blue of his eyes seemed all seeing. Another flare nearly doubled him over. He had to leave, without a word he turned on his heels to leave the Chantry. He’d not even heard Hawkes response and he’d not realised that Carver had followed him out and that he’d been saying his name. Carver touched his arm. The light touch burnt like fire and Fenris pulled his arm away with a hiss. It had been so long since he’d felt that pain. Carver held up his hands in a defensive gesture as Fenris glared at him. That all consuming rage filled him, but he wasn’t sure what had triggered it. he wasn’t overly keen on touching, but it didn’t usually make him lose his cool, at least not in quite a while.

“You alright? You’re all glowy and pissed off.”

“I'm all right.” He’d not spoil this for them, they wanted a cure and Fenris could attest that man had been a Red Templar, though if he’d not known better, he’d say he still was.

“Stop being such a cock and tell me the truth. That was a stupid question. You’re not alright. You’re pale, panting and look like you want to kill someone or pass out. Knowing you probably both.”

It was just the Lyrium, his body could only take so much of it at one time. He often felt this way after long drawn out battles or overuse. The one time he’d phased his entire body through a door, had seen him blackout for a good ten minutes after his high had worn off.

“Side effect of these.” He ran a finger down one of the lines on his arm. His own touch, painful, but bearable. “I’m fine.”

Carver nodded but didn’t move, merely crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him. Fenris took a seat on the small wall near the Chantry. He just needed a few minutes that was all. He’d have to tell Hawke about the flare-ups especially if they kept happening. He was a mage, and it wouldn’t be the first time Hawke had tampered with his markings to help him.

“Well if it’s all the same to you I’m just going to watch you. You die and Garret will never forgive me.”

“Carver I said…..” his growl was cut off by a man coming up behind Carver. His hand raised as if he was about to touch the younger man’s shoulder. But Carver senses were finely tuned and he whirled on the other man, mouth open to do what he done best but he stopped.

The other man stood only an inch taller than Carver but was much older. But, not too much older than himself. Though it was hard to tell with humans. Blonde hair, cut short, had soot from a fire. And the blackened hands, metal apron, and dirty smudges near, very blue eyes. Told Fenris this man was a blacksmith. Had he been crafting Carver a new sword?

“Sorry, I happened to catch the tail end of your conversation.” The other man stepped back, looking Carver up and down, a huge, almost proud smile crossing his face. “Carver, Carver Hawke? It’s been a long time you probably don’t remember me but…..” Carver cut him off.

“Maker’s hairy balls!”

 

 

Carver

 

Carver stared at the man standing in front of him. His smile growing by the second. Without giving the other man warning, he pulled him into a bear hug and patted his back roughly. “Reid freaking Hout. I thought you were killed at Ostagar!”

“No, I was sent away the morning of the battle to get supplies to replenish the troops after the first skirmish. By the time I’d reached the workshop, news had already spread that the king was dead and the camp was overrun with darkspawn. I packed up my mother and my sister and ran for Denrium. You did the same, or so I read. I’m sorry about….”

He didn’t say her name, he didn’t need to. Carver closed his eyes, seeing Reid only brought back more memories of her. She’d adored him, told him that they were going to marry one day. Even though Bethany was clearly not his type, he’d always indulged her and promised the second he grew bored of her brother they’d run off together. He remembered that fondly, even though at the time he’d merely scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Thanks, it was a hard time for everybody.”

He grabbed Carver’s arms putting him at arms length, taking him in. He’d changed more than quite a bit since they’d last seen one another. “Look at you. You’re a man grown. Maker, I must be getting old.”

Fenris made a noise behind him, and for that brief moment, he’d almost forgotten he was there. “Oh right, Reid this is Fenris, and Fenris this is the man who first taught me how to properly swing a blade.”

“Oh, so you’re him? Hmm, yeah, I guess I see the appeal. Sorry, Reid Hout, blacksmith. Loved the tale of the champion. And know I am a big fan. Was praying for you and Garret’s happy ending the whole time. That kiss in the gallows, the last goodbye, fucking brilliant! I’m glad he found you.”

Carver looked to the moody elf whose frown only deepened. He’d not even thought of how Fenris would handle this. Garret and Reid had remained friends even after they had split up, but Fenris was a wild card.

“I’d take what you read, especially in Varric’s books with a grain of salt. Things aren’t always what they seem.” He almost snarled the words and Carver couldn’t tell if it was Reid, or if it was his markings that were annoying him. Void only knows, it may have even been Varric. He was aware that Fenris had never actually read the tale of the Champion himself. There had been a lot more about their relationship in it that either man would like. Much more than Carver had wanted that was for sure.

“Oh, I apologise. Varric made it seem like, and you were with Carver so I assumed….” Fenris’s glare deepened and just then the man in question burst through the chantry door. Broad smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around Fenris's shoulders. Fenris stiffened but didn’t reject his touch as he’d done Carver’s.

“I’ve never been so happy! It’s real Fenny boy, it’s real!” His brother spun the smaller man in his arms and kissed him. Fenris wasn’t shy about reciprocating. One thing about the pair was they never shied away from a bit of PDA.  Carver cleared his throat to remind them that they were still indeed standing there. And Garret looked up, his frown quickly turning into a look of shock, then slowly a small smile moved to his lips. “Reid? hey!” He broke away from Fenris and pulled the man into the single most awkward hug Carver had ever seen. Fenris crossed his arms over his chest. And Carver slinked into the background trying to avoid whatever was going to happen. Especially since he’d been the catalyst. Yet nothing happened, the both men, who were usually chatty, seemed to have nothing to say. And for the first time, Carver was glad he didn’t have any real exes. He’d never been in this situation. “Funny I was thinking about you last night.”

“You were?” the question seemed to have an echo, two men asking it in completely different tones. Garret looked between them.

“What?”  his brother looked back toward the chantry. And Carver could practically see Garret’s loss for an explanation. Or a better way to have said that fact, and his inability to backtrack. “Yes, of course. Sorry, must run Cullen needs me.”

“Hawke.” Fenris caught his arm as he tried to flee and Carver was forced to cover his mouth to hide the laugh he couldn’t contain. He took it all back. This was priceless. Maker he would have paid to see his brother in this situation.

“Any chance we can forget I ever said that aloud?”

Fenris scowled and dropped Garret’s arm as he once again crossed them over his chest. “No.”

“Right, then drinks. I’m buying. Maker knows I’ll need them to get through this conversation.”

“Drinks sound great, but I should really….” Reid made a move to walk off, but the ground in front of him caught alight and he jumped back. Carver looked to his brother just in time to see the magic in his hand go out.

“Oh no you don’t. You got me into this mess and you're bloody well not leaving until I get myself out. Besides as soon as I explain the situation, and am hopefully still in a loving relationship, we should all chat. It’s been a long time.” 

“I’ll tell Cullen we’ll meet him at the tavern, shall I?” Carver could hear the amusement in his own voice. It wasn’t often he got to see his brother talk his way into a hole. He was usually so much better at talking his way out. Though he hadn’t always been. Maybe it was the way of Hawke men. They reverted to teenage boys around their first loves. Maker knows his attempts at wooing Merril, or even just holding a conversation with her in the beginning were, well, they were sad.

“Yes, we may need a Templar before the night is through.” Fenris’s voice didn’t at all sound impressed, but Carver didn’t blame him. Garret probably didn’t mean it the way it come out but after eleven years the thought that he might be thinking of someone else, Maker it must sting. Still it was unlike Fenris to take such offence. If Carver didn’t know any better, he’d be inclined to think Fenris felt threatened. But he did know better, or, at least, he thought he did. Lately, he’d been starting to see that Fenris was much more complex than he’d gave him credit for.

This wasn’t exactly going to help them get any closer to the cure but no one said a word of objection as they walked to the tavern. The building was just as he’d remembered. Actually, he was near positive that it was the same building that had been there before the blight. He’d not really spent all that much time in a tavern back then, but he’d often go with Garret after a long day and watch his brother cheat people out of their coins playing cards. Initially, he’d believed that Garret was really just that good of a player, he’d even asked his brother on occasion to teach him. Every time he’d just pat him on the shoulder and say ‘Carver, I would little brother, but mother would kill me. She already thinks I’m a bad influence.’ He’d not understood back then why his perfect brother had thought such a thing until Garret had actually been arrested for starting a bar brawl. Their father had gotten him out, threatened to let the Templars take him if he ever tried to cheat his way into another back room game.

Needless to say, Garret no longer needed to teach him. He’d learned to play and to cheat all on his own. But unlike his big brother, he never cheated. And he also never lost. At least not at cards.         

 

 


	20. Hawke

 

“It may have been mentioned years back but to clear things up, I’m an apostate.” Hawke sat at the bar with Reid. Fenris, who was still mad at him for, well he was losing track actually, was sitting at a table talking with his brother. It was pointless keeping track anymore because Fenris usually come round and forgave him eventually. Hawke was willing to say his sorries and wait it out. But he wasn’t willing to pass up this chance. Reid was a blacksmith and they were pretty well gearless. He could help them. And Hawke could convince him.

“No! Maker since when?”

“Surprising I know, I was always so good at hiding it.” Hawke watched a small trail of flames dance and weave around his fingers as he wiggled them. Reid laughed.

“There is a reason you bring this up.” That wasn’t a question. Even after all these years the man could still read him like a book. It was, in fact, something Hawke would indeed bring up for no reason. And had been tempted to many times during his life. But hadn’t because he really didn’t want to live in a circle. More people than he’d liked had known back then, most of them he’d told himself.

“Being an apostate, I have no money. Well, that’s a lie, I have a lot of money, more than I know what to do with really, but currently I’m not allowed access to any of it.”

“I see, and you want me to what, rob the Dwarven bank holding your money?”

Hawke actually laughed, and the smile that moved to his lips was carefree and light. One very few people had the ability to bring out of him. Varric was the only other person who done it consistently.

“No, if it were that simple I would have done that myself. Like they’d stand any chance against me. But I do need your help. My companions and I, well, we need gear. Neutral unassuming gear, maybe some weapons. We have our own, but they are not versatile enough for the mission. I can’t very well walk around in my Champion armour and poor Cullens armour bearly fits. Help us out. I’ll pay you back twice what it’s all worth as soon as they unfreeze my accounts. Maker, I’ll even pay you three times retail, Reid we’re desperate.”

He looked away, his brow drawing together. He knew he was asking a lot, but he just had to hope Reid was the same man he’d once known. Finally, he sighed and gave a quick nod.

“Three times retail Garret, because this might bloody well send me broke. I put everything I have left into this shop, and business isn’t exactly booming.”

“I swear it to you, you do this and I’ll even pay off anything you still owe. This is that important.”

“May I ask what is so important, it has the Champion of Kirkwall, the Inquisition, and the Grey Wardens interested?”

“You can ask, but I won’t answer. It’s better that way. Besides you’re much to pretty to be tangled up in all this. I have more than my fair share of scars to prove it.” Hawke found himself reaching up and tucking a stray strand of loose hair behind Reid’s ear. He wasn’t sure if it was a habit he’d developed while dating Fenris, or if somewhere deep down he secretly longed to touch him just one more time. After all, you never really got over your first.

The second that thought formed in his head he pulled away the lingering hand as if the touch had repelled him. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks unbidden. This wasn’t right. His whole body screamed it. Reid didn’t respond poorly. Actually, he bearly responded at all, leaving Hawke to wonder if he should apologise or just act as if it never happened. 

“A lot has changed over the years, but I always knew you were going to do something great. You just always had that spark, people are drawn to you, Garret. I was, from the very first moment our eyes met, and I’d seen you blush. But we all have our scars, even me, only mine aren’t physical. Would you believe me if I told you I was engaged, until quite recently in fact.”

Hawke's heart sank, Reid was changing the subject, maybe just quietly telling him to back off. He was an idiot. Flirting had become like breathing to him. A natural response to anyone he’d liked. But this wasn’t the first time he’d overstepped a line. This was the first time he’d felt guilty about it, however. His flirting was usually playful, and it could be directed at a woman just as easily as a man. Though he wasn’t sure if he meant it this time or not, he was nearly certain he did. And that worried him. He’d not be that man, he’d not do that to Fenris.

“What happened, I mean… only if you want to tell it.”

“He was a Templar from the Ferelden Circle before it fell. I was hired to help with rebuilding it after the blight. We met on the job so to speak. He was charming, handsome, kind, and not like the rest of them. He was very vocal about his objections to the way mages were treated in circles. That was how we met, actually. I’d walked in to see him with a recruit by the scruff of his uniform, a young mage girl in tears in the corner. I must have been feeling brave that day so I asked him what the meaning of this was. He’d stared at me like I was mad. I felt it then, you never met him, but trust me you’d not question his actions if you ever saw him.” He paused then laughed softly. “Okay, maybe you would, but I never would have. He’d told me he’d walked in on, his words, ‘this wormy little scumbag’ taking advantage of his charge and he’d not allow such behaviour on his watch, or ever.”

Reid laughed again, and Hawke noticed Cullen briefly stop near his brother's table, before walking toward him. But he turned his full attention back to Reid. The other man’s blue eyes filled with pain, only it was masked by a sweeter emotion.

“After the rebellion, he helped the mages that decided to stay. Effectively rebelling from the order himself. He copped a lot of crap for that choice. Especially from other Templars. They argued about abominations, blood magic, and demons. But he’d always supported them. He used to always say ‘If you treat a mage like a monster, you have no right to be surprised if that treatment turns them into one. It’s as much our fault as it is their own.”

“Scott Weldon, right. The Templar you speak of?” Both Hawke and Reid turned to the owner of the voice. Cullen blushed slightly under their gaze and rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I knew a templar that used to say that. We were friends once. We grew apart after the circle fell. He was a good man, had more forgiveness in his heart than any one man has any right to.”

“Yes, he did.”

“I don’t wish to intrude but how is he? I’ve not heard from him since I left for Kirkwall, we’d not parted on good terms.”

That pained expression crossed his face again. And instinctively Hawke reached out to touch his arm. The other man smiled at the small comfort and took a shaky breath. “He’s dead I’m afraid, he was at the conclave, to show not all Templars supported the mistreatment of mages.”

“Maker’s breath, I didn’t know.” though Cullen had gotten the last part of the story out of context, even a blind man could see the heartache in his eyes. “He was a good person, the world is a darker place without him. I’m sorry for your loss.” Cullen shifted awkwardly and Hawke could almost hear his mental plea of rescue.

“Cullen, will you excuse us for a moment, I’ll join you all shortly.” Cullen nodded but waited until Hawke stood his hand still on Reid’s arm. If anyone needed a drink right now, it was him, and he also needed to be away from Cullen. Who, Hawke knew meant well, but he wasn’t exactly known for his eloquence. Hawke took the bottle the bartender had been careless enough to leave on the bar and led Reid from the tavern. He didn’t know how the other man felt. But he could imagine, he’d lost Bethany and it had nearly killed him. But if he lost Fenris, he couldn’t even think that. He’d traverse the Void once again, to ensure that didn’t happen.

Thankfully the task of getting Reid away was much simpler. The tavern was exactly the same as it had been the last time he’d been here. The door in the back lead to a staircase, and a back entrance, or exit as the case was this time. The stairs led up to the lodging the tavern offered, four rooms if he recalled correctly. Hawke smirked at the small table that had been set up next to the stairs. Backroom wicked grace, maybe this place could be fun after all. The door was locked, but luckily it was from the inside so Hawke took it upon himself to remedy that. They may have to use the front entrance to return but that didn’t matter so much. They were just getting a little air. He pushed the door closed behind them, and passed Reid the bottle. The other man took it without a word and took a long drink.

“Tell me something Garret, did you really do everything the Tale says you did.”

Hawke hated that question, probably even more than the fact that no one apart from Carver ever called him Garret anymore. Garret seemed like a different person entirely. Someone he’d been in another life. But that didn’t answer the man’s question, and Hawke was stuck for a truthful answer.

“Mostly, most things weren’t so romantic, I wasn’t always so heroic and it was a lot bloodier, but essentially everything that happened in the book we lived through. It’s been an eventful few years.”

“It all seemed so fantastical, you know. This boy from Lothering, helping shape the events of Thedas. When it come out, everybody was reading it. We’d all heard rumors of what happened and who was involved. Scott brought it home one day, he’d tossed it on the table and laughed about a mage causing so much trouble. At the time, I hadn’t even connected the dots. I’d heard Hawke, plenty but you’d always been Garret to me. Scott happened to mention, that the tales hero was from Lothering. He was an apostate, so it was unlikely anybody really knew him but he’d asked if we’d met. The second he said your name I laughed. For a good five minutes. Clearly they didn’t mention much about your years in Lothering. Everybody knew your family. Even if it was only in passing. I’d filled him in on the details then I’d spent all night and most of the next day reading that damned book.” He laughed and took another drink, only a quick one this time. “I bearly recognized you at all.”

“Varric is a good liar and a good writer. He left out much more than he left in. There was so much more looting and walking and searching. He made it seem constant, but there were weeks at a time where I’d have nothing to do. I’d take mother to the markets, write Carver, try and woo Fenris. A lot of causing trouble with Isabela. My life, though it’s had some excitement had been rather average. The only reason I even ended up involved with anything was because I needed the work. I wasn’t out to change the world. I was only looking out for my family. It just so happened I wasn’t too picky with who I worked for, so I got around. I really like being paid.”

“When you say it like that it almost makes you sound like you were Kirkwall's primary whore.”

“Depending on who you asked that would be an apt description. Though there was less sex, more killing.” Hawke paused considering that. “There was still sex, not nearly as much as I would have liked. I went through a bit of a dry spell there, but even still I wasn’t getting paid for it.” he averted his gaze a blush lighting his cheeks as he recalled his infrequent trips to the blooming rose. “quite the opposite at times actually.” His voice was a murmur, and he wasn’t even sure why he’d admitted that. He really needed to work on his filter.

Reid coughed choking on the mouthful Hawke hadn’t seen him take. He passed the bottle, coughing and patting his chest. “You may want to keep this if we are going to keep talking.”

“Hawke!” The voice startled him causing him to drop the bottle. He didn’t know that voice, but it didn’t sound friendly. He stepped out around Reid shielding him out of reflex. A group of mercenaries was blocking the exit to the alley. The one who had called his name had stepped forward but one of the others had caught his arm. He heard Reid’s sharp intake of breath as they both realised they were outnumbered and defenseless. Well, almost defenseless. He was a mage after all. The guy shook off the grasp and held up a hand. Hawke gritted his teeth. That one was itching for a fight. He knew that look, he’d both worn it and admired it many times.

“Think about this, he’s either a warden or a very powerful apostate, you’ll be killed.”

They hadn’t been sure who he was, meaning they’d not only been looking for him but Carver as well. It wasn’t often people got him and his sibling mixed up, but it was dark, and he was clean shaven for once.  Despite the protest of the group the man walked forward. Hawke put a hand behind him pushing Reid back, he made a noise in protest and Hawke fixed him with a glare over his shoulder. Reid froze, blue gaze fixed on him. “I’ve got this.”

Hawke’s voice was almost a growl, and he’d done it intentionally. It had been a warning. Reid was skilled with a sword, true but he was unarmed and was a few drinks past sober. Even if he were armed, Hawke wouldn’t let him fight without a clear head.

The man walked closer, he was quite young, but Hawke knew better than to hold that against him. There was a cold gleam in his eyes. One that only come from seeing too much bloodshed. Seeing he’d have to be no older that twenty Hawke guessed he’d been an orphan, one that had been taken in by either bandits or mercenaries and taught to kill. Even if it wasn’t true, he found it easier to let stupid people live when they seemed more human. After fighting for as long as he has, doing what he did, these people became fodder if he let them, so he never did. If he could help it. The guilt kept him human.

He smirked a scar above his lip making it distorted somehow. “Well, you’re not the warden, the elder Hawke right. The Champion.” The way he’d said it was mocking, and he gave him a once over. Hawke frowned. He really hated it when people called him the elder Hawke. He was only thirty-seven damn it. He shook it off, now was not the time to dwell on such things.

“That would be me. Champion of Kirkwall at your service.” He gave a small bow but didn't break eye contact. The man watched him wearily as if waiting for Hawke to make a move. But he didn’t like to instigate fights, he been raised better than that. He merely finished them.

“You going to surrender?”

Hawke pretended to consider that. “Why ever would I do that?”

The guy scowled and attacked, evidently he wasn’t open to a nice chat. His smile was cocky, Hawke knew he was sure he could subdue him. People always underestimated him because he was a mage. Just because he could wield magic, didn't mean he couldn’t also kick a little arse if needed.

Hawke watched his feet, as the man faked left and brought his sword up. That wasn’t a stunning blow he was going for. Hawke ducked to the left under the swing of the sword and quickly grabbed the man’s wrist. He squeezed, hard and the sword fell from his hand. The guy stared at him wide-eyed as if he couldn’t believe that had happened. Hawke rolled his eyes, then headbutted the boy causing him to stumble back dazed. Hawke stumbled a bit as well. That hurt much more than he’d been expecting. There was wetness on his face that he could only assume was blood, though whether it was his own remained to be seen. As the still dazed guy straightened, Hawke put a boot to his stomach, sending him flying back into the wall near the door. He crumbled to the ground unconscious and Hawke looked to the rest of his buddies.

They, on the other hand, looked between one another, drew their weapons and advanced, as a group. Hawke cursed under his breath and backed up. He let Mana coil into his hands, a tangible show of his power. With a flick of his wrist lightning struck, and thunder rumbled a warning. The group stopped their advance but didn’t back down.

“Can’t we talk about this?” He called to the other end of the alley at his attackers. His question was met with a glare and he shrugged. “No?”

Fine, if that’s how they wanted to be. Hawke pulled all his mana forward, ready and willing to fry the lot of them back to the last age, he was most certainly going to lose. There was just too many of them and his mana wasn’t endless, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.                        

                       

   

 


	21. Cullen

Maker preserve him. Cullen shifted uncomfortably as he watched Hawke, and the man, whose name he’d never actually caught, leave through a back exit. He’d not really been paying attention before he’d heard that phrase and he’d not even looked at the man who had said it until he’d spoken himself. He’d known what a mistake that was the second he’d seen that man’s face. He turned and walked back to Carver and Fenris both of which were watching with completely different expressions. Neither spoke as he joined them, and the scowl of their elven companion’s face made the silence feel tense.  He liked silence, probably more than most but he could almost feel the Lyrium buzzing under Fenris’s skin, so he decided to fill it.

“The Templar’s story was convincing and he has agreed to go to Skyhold, and submit to Dagna’s testing. But we cannot proceed until we know for sure that he is telling the truth.”

“He is.” Fenris sounded so sure, that Cullen was momentarily stunned. The elf had left the Chantry the moment he’d started speaking. He’d not heard his story as Hawke and Cullen had. But he never got the chance to ask him how, before Fenris continued. “I could feel the red Lyrium in his blood, my markings react painfully to the red stuff. As they react to all high concentrations of Lyrium. Makes them hum. But the red stuff, it’s wrong.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned these feelings?”

Fenris merely scowled and Carver rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t aware you needed a status report on all my bodily functions. Should I work on that Commander? With Hawke back they are many now. Might be a long report.”

Cullen felt himself blush and was a bit taken aback by that. Though it wasn’t nearly as charming, and it was said with a note of anger rather than light-hearted jesting, it was something he’d expect from Hawke, not him. But he’d been correct, he’d had no reason to tell him of this skill before now. It had not been important, it was merely a fact of life for him. Lyrium affected each person very differently, he knew that.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” It was little more than a muttering.

All three men jumped at the sound of a crash, then a crack of lightning, followed by another crash. They looked between each other just as Hawke’s faint voice sounded in the space.

“Can’t we talk about this? No?” another crack of lightning and Fenris and Carver shared a knowing look before both men sprinted to the door. Cullen followed wanting to see the commotion. The three burst into the Alley behind the small tavern, well it was more of a street wider than most alleys in bigger cities. Hawke was backed into a wall hands glowing with mana, standing protectively in front of the man he’d left with, two dozen heavily armed men blocking him in. His clothing and hair dishevelled and it was clear there had already been a scuffle.

Beside him, Fenris started to glow an eerie blue, the light getting brighter as his scowl deepened. The armed men twitched their weapons and Fenris moved, faster than Cullen had ever seen anyone move. Going straight through the men, like a speedy Spector, to stop at Hawkes side greatsword drawn. The men he’d passed through dropped to the ground either riving in pain or dead. The men all looked to one another confused as Carver and he drew their weapons.

“About time you boys showed up, thought I would have to have all the fun.”

Half the men turned to face them, they were clearly bounty hunters. That much was for sure, though what they wanted with Hawke was the next question.  All men looked between one another. A fight was something that seemed inevitable at that point but all parties seemed hesitant. Fenris and Hawke watched the men, Carver gripped his sword impatiently. So when a man raised his bow, Carver smiled and all four of them sprang into action.

The alley turned into chaos, chain lightning, immobilized enemies easily for attack, but they were outnumbered. Cullen, who seemed to be a lot more controlled than his companions used more of a non-lethal approach. Easily ducking attacks and using his fists to knock opponents out. A sword nicked his arm and he spun on his attacker, just in time to dive into a roll to dodge a swing that surely would have taken his head off. He rolled onto his knees, balled his fist and settled the mercenary with a solid punch to the gut. He doubled over just in time to receive a swift boot to the face. Another quick jab and he stunned the man coming at him long enough to grab his arm and disarm him of his weapon. The man stumbled but Cullen twisted his arm behind his back before bringing his elbow down on the space between his neck and shoulder. The man crumpled to the ground out cold.  He readied himself for another attack but the fight was nearly over. Carver stood, blood smearing his face, to Cullen’s right while Hawke smirked at the one standing mercenary to his left.

Fenris, face contorted in what could only be described as a sneer held the man by the scruff. While Hawke studied him.

“Now, my good man. Pray tell, why are you attacking us this fine afternoon?”

The man spit at Hawke. A similar sneer on his face as his captor. Hawke sighed and gave a slight shake of his head before looking to Fenris and giving him a small nod. Cullen could only watch as Fenris’s sneer turned into a smile as he pulled back his free hand. His fist clenching and lighting up like blue fire before he shoved it through the man’s chest lifting him off the ground. Cullen stepped back, also shocked at what he’d just seen. He’d heard rumour that Fenris could rip a man’s heart out without breaking the skin, but he’d thought it had been just that, rumour. The man’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped, opening and closing in a silent scream. Cullen was stuck somewhere between wanting to intervene and letting it play out. His morality screaming at him that this wasn’t right.  

“Who sent you?” Hawke said again just before Fenris dropped him to the ground. The man cried out and scrambled to his knees grasping at his chest as if looking for a hole. Every breath was a whimper, and Cullen almost wanted to look away.

“Fucking freak.” Was the only response he got and again Hawke sighed.

“Why do they always make this so difficult for themselves?” He nodded to Fenris once again and this time both hands lit up as he strode forward and dragged the man to his feet. The man watched as he pulled back his fist again and let it fly.

“Wait! No please, okay, I’ll give you the warrant just don’t, please.” His voice was practically a sob and Fenris’s markings faded back to white, as Hawke stepped forward to dig around in the man's pockets. He pulled a folded piece of parchment out of one of the man’s pockets and opened it his eyes scanning the paper. Hawke folded it again and Fenris threw the man to the ground.

“Scurry along little bounty hunter, we’re done here.” the man didn’t wait to be told again, and Cullen watched as he scrambled away leaving his friends lying at their feet. Hawke stepped over a couple to hand the parchment to Cullen, a concerned look on his face.  “You have a little problem.”

Cullen, who was still reeling from what he’d just witnessed took the parchment absently. He could feel Carver standing behind him looking over his shoulder as he opened it. Cullen blinked a few times at the words on the page, then at the royal seal at the bottom.

_By order of the King, the fugitive Sir Cullen Rutherford, and any companions travelling with him are to be brought to Denrium to face the Kings justice. A bounty of 300 gold, will be paid to any man who brings him before the king unharmed. The fugitive is said to be travelling with the Grey Warden Carver Hawke, Free March Elven Resident Fenris, last name unknown, and the champion of Kirkwall._

_All men are assumed to be armed and dangerous and are to be brought before the king unharmed._

_An extra 200 gold will be paid if the king is presented with both Cullen Rutherford and Garret Hawke._

_Sanctioned by his majesty_

_Alistair Theirin, king of Ferelden_

“Wanted! I was assured this was taken care of!” Cullen was floored, he’d need to contact Lilly right away. He’d assured him that she’d made arrangements with the king.

“Maybe this is his way of inviting us over for tea. I’ve only met him once, so maybe he didn’t pick up on the fact that I take my tea with less bloodshed. A common misconception, after all helping people and killing people is what I do best.”

“This doesn’t seem the time for jest Brother!” Carver snapped, as Cullen once again read the warrant in his hand. “This is the bloody king! We can’t just keep killing the men he sends after us. That is a sure fire way to land us all in the dungeon.”

“And that just sounds like a lot of work. Look nothing can be done about this tonight. Carver, you get Cullen back to the farm house, he looks a little shell shocked and Fenris and I will escort Reid home. In the morning, we head for Denirum to clear this up. Who knows, maybe we’ll get the bounty if we turn ourselves in.”

Carver pushed past him roughly, glaring at his brother as he walked off. Hawke turned to help the man he’d been with to his feet before giving Cullen a small nod and leading him away. Fenris following only a step behind. Cullen looked around at the bodies. Maker’s breath, he couldn’t just leave them here. With a sigh, he heaved one of the men he’d knocked out onto his shoulder and started for the chantry.

Thankfully the Templars there didn’t question him when he asked for their assistance. And it took little time to sort the injured from the dead. He was actually quite relieved to find that only four of them men were actually dead. But four more were unlikely to survive the night. He’d asked them to fetch the inquisition scout that he’d seen in town. He’d send the ones that survive back to Skyhold to treat their wounds. After they were all patched up and this mess had passed, he’d get them sent back home. But for now, he couldn’t allow them to return to their king. Not yet. He also needed to get Lilly a letter. And see if he could arrange to get one of her messenger birds so that they had direct communication. It would be easier than using scouts, seeing he was no longer part of the inquisition.

He found the Hawke farm easily. He’d arrived just in time to see Carver entering through the back gate, two rabbits in his hand, another two tied to his belt. He was clearly a much better hunter than either Cullen or Fenris were.

“What took you?” the question was blunt as Carver pushed open the door and slapped down his kill on the table. Cullen looked to the two buckets that had already been set up there, and he’d also wondered when he’d gotten the chance to fix the table. Carver was very efficient

“I was cleaning up our mess.” Carver pulled a knife from his belt then paused and looked at him.

“Oh, yeah, that was probably a good idea. Never usually do that. Though usually when we fight in town, it’s people the guard wants dead, so the city happily cleans them up when we are done. You know, I never put that much thought into it before.” He drew the knife along the rabbit’s throat, before holding it over one of the buckets. Cullen walked to the fire to ready the spit Fenris had built the night before. He grabbed the flint they had left on the hath and lit the fire. Warmth washed over him, and slowly started filling the room as it grew. He looked back to Carver and the other man tossed him the gutted and skinned carcass of the first rabbit, before moving onto the next. The boy was also very good at that, it had taken Cullen almost double the time when he’d done it the night before. He fixed the rabbit to the spit and sat behind it turning it so it cooked evenly.

“Yes, well I figured that, seeing the carnage Hawke often left in the streets of Kirkwall. More than once my men acted as a clean-up crew.” 

“Do you miss being a Templar.” The question sounded wistful, and Cullen considered his answers carefully.

“No, but I might have if I’d had better luck in the order. If my whole experience had been like my first few months in the Ferelden Circle, then I might have.”

“Same with the wardens. At first, I liked it, it was exciting, gave me purpose. But then the knight commander went crazy and the circles fell. Everybody in Thedas seemed to be blaming Garret, the wardens problems seemed to pale in comparison.”

“Never a dull moment when you’re brother is involved.” Cullen watched the flames lick at their dinner the meat changing colour as it cooked. Not for the first time, he started to miss Skyhold. Somewhere along the line, he’d become accustomed to the finer things, not to say that he hated having to live on the road as they were but he’d rather not if given the choice. He thought of Evelyn and her motley crew sitting around a campfire doing this very thing all those time she’d ventured from the walls. She often regaled him with tales of the in camp antics, and the fun they’d had despite the absolute madness happening around them.  He sighed, a small tug in his chest.

He’d not had the kingship with his siblings the Hawke’s had. He’d not seen his sister in years and sometimes even writing to any of his siblings was too much of a bother. Carver had dropped everything for his family, more than once now and he felt no such compulsion. If they were in trouble, of course, he’d endeavor to help, but his deep devotion lay elsewhere. Evelyn inspired him like no other. She’d changed his life for the better and he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. Even still, he didn’t have the drive to move the world for her, of course, he would, if she asked it of him, he’d find a way but he knew his duty, and if the Inquisitor told him not to fight for her, he’d respect her wishes and stand back.  

It was just the way he’d been raised. Duty and Order. That’s where his loyalty lay. But he wondered what it was like to love like that. To live with only yourself to answer to. He envied Carver and Hawke. Both for their devotion, and their freedom. A Freedom he now had, yet he wanted nothing more than to return to the way things were. Return to her. But he had a job to do, and he’d see it through until the end.

Carver gave a small laugh as he carried two of the other rabbits over to lay them on the flat stone they’d been using as a plate. When he spoke he continued with their previous conversation about Hawke. “You have no idea, growing up with Garret Hawke was painful, to say the least. Even the simplest of things seem to go array.” He gave a dry laugh again as he sat down. Eyes fixed on the fire as he recalled whatever he was about to tell him. “I once caught him in the mayor’s barn, with a Templar. He’s trouble incarnate. Maker, trouble with him is like Darkspawn seeking out an archdemon. And when it finds him, the void splits right open.”                               

_  
_

 


	22. Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing it's my birthday I decided to post two chapters. Well that and Chapter twenty three is rather short, so I didn't want to post it on it's own next time. I've almost caught up to myself writing wise. I've been trying to write so I was always a few chapters ahead, that way if life got in the way I still had something to post. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to make it this far. I really appreciate it and hope you have enjoyed it. It's drawing to a close story wise, so big things will be happening in the chapters from now on. Though, i'll still try not to skimp of the fluff. 
> 
> anyway, on to the story.....

Cullen wasn’t the only one who looked shell-shocked. Reid was pale, and Hawke held his arm as they walked only so the man didn’t faint on them. Every now and then Fenris’s hand would brush his free one, and a wave a heat moved through his body. He cast a sidelong glance at his lover. Hair dishevelled and face blood splattered. And Hawke had to fight the wave of desire that was building in the pit of his stomach. Had been since the fight. There was something unbelievably sexy about seeing Fenris in action. The way his body moved in a fight, his grace was only outweighed by how skilled he was. It was like a dance, a deadly dance but a dance none the less. He was a predator, beautiful, but dangerous.

He’d always meant to take the elf dancing, but the pair weren’t exactly the ball type. Hawke enjoyed the merriment of it for a while but tired of it easily. His crowd tended to be a little louder and unrespectable these days. And he liked it that way. As much as Fenris in finery, slaying people, and bring Hawke to his knees of the dance floor sounded appealing in his mind. In reality, they’d probably both hate it and end up tearing the others clothes off in a back room somewhere, because priorities, and all.  That part would be fun.

Hawke stopped his train of thought right there. It had come full circle, right back to what he was trying to distract himself from. They’d been back together for weeks now and yes, the bed in Skyhold had gotten quite the workout, but recently? Well, he remembered all too well how that turned out. To say there was an itch, dying to be scratched, was an understatement.  The next time Fenris’s hand brushed his he grabbed it, linking their fingers. Fenris stiffened, caught off guard by the action, but never pulled his hand away. It wasn’t exactly like them to stroll hand in hand like a couple of love-struck teenagers, but the mood took him.

Hawke dropped Reid’s arm confident that the other man had his composure back and pulled Fenris closer to his side. He wrapped an arm around the shorter man’s waist, not giving him much of a choice but to stand close. He didn’t, however, seem to mind. Merely gave a soft laugh as Hawke tucked him into his side. He revelled at how well they fit together. And a small part of him noted that the only thing that could possibly make this feel any more right was if they were wearing a lot less clothing. Damn it, right back to square one. Again.

“A good fight always makes you so affectionate.” The low murmur of that rusty baritone did nothing good to Hawke’s already wandering mind.

“Not exactly the word I’d use.”

The soft laugh that followed lit up his insides and a very small part of him wanted to leave Reid to get himself home and duck into that alley over there. Just for a few minutes. When he looked down to his lover the look in his eye did nothing for Hawke’s self-control. Maker preserve him, but he would be strong and finish the task he’d set himself. After that, all bets were off. 

He looked to Reid, who gave him a knowing smile and looked away. Hawke felt himself blush at that. Was he being that obvious? Probably, subtlety had never really been his thing. Like ever.

“It’s just up here.”

The words ‘thank the Maker’ were on the tip of his tongue and it took every ounce of will he had not to say them. It’s wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy Reid’s company. He had, maybe a little too much, but right now. He wanted company of a different kind. The naked elven kind to be precise. Reid unlocked the door to his shop and turned to face them.

“Never have I felt safer walking home. Thank you, I guess.”

“You are entirely welcome. I usually charge at least thirty silver for an escort mission, but this one’s on the house. A lot less eventful than most.”

Reid chuckled. “Yes, I can only imagine. I’ll have the gear ready by morning. If you want to stop by before you all leave.”

“Thank you, we need this.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, not for a second.” He paused leant in and kissed Hawke on the cheek. Hawke tried not to blush. He really did. “It was good to see you again, and it was a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out to Fenris, who looked about ready to rip it off and possibly bash him to death with it. Needless to say, he didn’t make a move to shake.

“Fenris is not big on touching.” He looked to his arm around the elf and corrected himself. “Unless I’m involved then he’s all for touching, very handsy this one….”

“Hawke.” Fenris voice was a warning, one Hawke didn’t take seriously. 

Reid laughed again and smiled at the pair. “Colour me jealous.” He felt Fenris stiffen against him. He’d not thought it would bother him so much, after all, Hawke had learned a good portion of what he knew about flirting from Reid. Hawke could almost feel the scowl on Fenris’s face. But Reid only smiled then winked at his moody man. “You’re a lucky man, Hawke.” And with that, he walked inside and shut the door. Hawke could feel the smile moving across his face. Slowly at first. But he started to laugh at the look of confusion on Fenris’s face. It was a move straight out of Hawke’s playbook and even when he wasn’t the one doing it, it was still hilarious.

“You should see your face.” Hawke had to fight to keep himself upright. And Fenris’s expression slowly fell back into a frown he didn’t mean.

“Shut it Mage.” He almost huffed, which Hawke found completely adorable.

“You walked right into that one, you having your jealous hackles up.”

“I do not have jealous hackles. I could not care less if other men find you desirable.”

Lies, Hawke could see through him like crystal. And he knew Fenris’s possessive, and jealous streak comes from his past as a slave. But it was a weakness that he didn’t like to admit he had. Sharing wasn’t one of his strong points and Hawke was okay with that.

“Oh really, shall we tell Reid that. I’m sure he’d be interested to know.” Hawke took a step toward the door and Fenris grabbed him, shoving him against the wall of the alley near Reid’s shop.

“Take one more step towards that door and I will end you Mage, him too.”

Hawke smiled down at his lover and the possessive look in his eye. He wasn’t even mad. In fact, he loved Fenris’s devotion to him. Maker knows that he’d done nothing to deserve it.

“I knew you cared.” 

Fenris kissed him. Pressing their bodies together, as fingers reached up to twist in shorter hair. Fenris pulled away, a look of slight amusement on his face.

“Well, that’s going to take some getting used to.” Hawke rubbed at his now clean-shaven jaw. He’d almost forgotten he’d done that. Hawke turned the tables, muscling the warrior off of him and pinning his back against the wall. Gently he wedged a knee between his legs, pressing them so close that Hawke could feel the hard lines of Fenris coiled body through their clothes. Hawke leant in and planted a small kiss on his neck.

“Be a good boy and shut it will you.” He murmured against his skin before he nipped at the man’s collar bone. Fenris made a noise low in his throat, as Hawke, nipped, kissed and sucked at the hollow in his lover's neck. Glancing up he saw Fenris had his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed, a wanting smile on his face. It was another thing he’d never admit, was how much he enjoyed it when Hawke kissed his neck. Even if he did, grumble about having to hide the bruises the next day, he’d never once stopped him from making them. Hawke moved down his chest, finger’s nimbly untying the knot at the front of his shirt. The collar falling open wide enough to reveal a nipple. Hawke traced his tongue down a line of his markings every so often stopping to kiss, or nip at the bare skin. The marking disappeared down under his shirt but Hawke wasn’t ready to stop.

Dropping to his knees he slid his hands up his lover’s body, lifting the shirt as high as he could reach. Thankfully Fenris finished the job. Grabbing the shirt and ripping it over his head before bending to take his lover's mouth in a feral kiss. Hawke held the kiss for a moment. Revelling the feel of his lover’s mouth. With one hand he reached up and push Fenris back against the wall, eliciting a frustrated growl from the other man as he continued down. He felt Fenris’s muscles tighten under his touch. Contract as his lover held his composure like a champion. Every kiss brought him lower until he reached the band of his leathers. Tight, tan and leaving very little to the imagination. Hawke could see exactly how much Fenris was enjoying this. He grabbed the tie with his teeth and pulled slowly as he looked up at his lover.

“Hawke.” Fenris voice was half scolding half giggle and it did nothing to make him want to stop. Fenris looked around the alley they were barely in. Lothering was still being rebuilt the population was barely in the hundreds. The chance of someone walking up on them was slim. But having that small chance made it exciting. With a smile he grabbed the leather with his teeth, placing a hand on either side of Fenris hips and attempted to slide the pants down. They didn’t exactly slide like he was hoping.

“Maker Fenris, how do you even get these on?”

Fenris laughed and shook his head. As if he actually expected Hawke to take anything seriously. With an eye roll, that Hawke could almost hear Fenris did the hard work for him. Giving a delicious little wiggle as he worked himself free of the leathers. Hawke bit his lip as he watched. Fenris raised an eyebrow at him as they slid down his legs. And he stood bare in front of him.

“So that’s why Isabella can never guess their colour.”

Fenris gave him a small shrug and pretended as if Hawke couldn’t have possibly known that before now.  This was not going at all like he planned, not even a little bit. There he was, his stunning warrior standing exposed in an alley, not a hint of shame, and with good rights the man was glorious. And Hawke was on his knees, trying not to laugh. Content to just enjoy the view. This seemed so romantic in those books Isabella had lent him.

“Hawke, if we’d not known each other as long as we had, I might have taken offence to you laughing.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not you it’s just, doesn’t this stuff usually go smoother for us?”

“It’s been known to, yes.”

“I’m sorry, I ruined this didn’t I?”

Hawke stood and pressed his body against Fenris, a hand resting on the wall above his head. What was wrong with him? He wanted this, so badly, but it just wasn’t working. Maybe it was to public, sure it wouldn’t have been the first time but maybe he was just over that kind of thing. Maker, he was getting old. Back when they’d first started dating, they’d barely made it out the door of the hanged man before their hands were all over each other.

            “You ruined nothing, Hawke. I will not force you to do something you do not wish to do.” There was an edge to his voice. One Hawke hated hearing, one that had taken years of hearing it to recognise what it was. Hurt. Maker’s balls! That’s not at all what he wanted. He wanted to do it, by Andraste’s fire did he want it he just couldn’t. Not here.   

“No, pull up your pants, this instant. We need to go somewhere.”

“Hawke…” Fenris was going to object but he wasn’t having any of it. The evening was still young and Hawke knew just the place, to be alone.

“I will drag you through the town naked love, don’t tempt me.”

With a sigh Fenris obliged.

****

It wasn’t a long walk, but the path he’d known so well as a teen had been blocked, so it had taken some creative pathfinding to get there. Fenris had misplaced his shirt in the alley. Which had been fine by Hawke, honestly if it didn’t put him in mortal danger he’d insist on him never wearing a shirt at all, he never did unless he had to. Clothing was just so overrated. The clearing that had once been near the river was overgrown and Hawke grabbed Fenris’s hand and dragged him upstream. The moon was high in the sky by the time Hawke found a part clear of debris.

“A river?” Fenris looked around, seemingly puzzled.

“Yes, it is.” Hawke pulled off his shoes as the other man watched, sitting them on the rock by the bank. He slipped his shirt over his head, then pulled down his pants, kicking them off before gathering them up, to sit with his shoes. Unlike his man, he’d worn smalls, and he made a show of taking them off. He dropped them in front of Fenris, before giving his man a saucy smile. “Fancy a swim?” 

He took slow deliberate steps as he made his way to the river, and he could feel Fenris eyes on him. He knew the Elf had crossed his arms, and he was probably still upset, but he was going to make it up to him. With a wiggle of his bum, he dove into the river. The water was a cool shock at first, but by the time he surfaced he’d already gotten used to it. He shook the water from his hair. The water barely reaching the bottom of his rib cage.

“The water is nice Fen, or are you content to just watch.”

Fenris swore and removed his leathers. He unceremoniously waded into the water. He stopped a few feet from Hawke. Hands skimming the water. Hawke swam up to him took him into his arms, it was time to apologise. He bent to kiss his neck, but Fenris stopped him.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Just no, Hawke.”

“Okay.”  Hawke backed away, confused. He knew Fenris was hurt, but he’d not realised he’d been that upset. No matter what he’d done lately all they seemed to do was fight. Not in the good way they both liked. Hawke swam around a bit, puzzled. He hated the feeling welling in the pit of his stomach, the fear that was boiling there.

“Fenris, have I done something wrong. I’m sorry about before it was stage fright, the alley freaked me out.”

“This is not about the alley! This is about me, isn’t it? First, you leave, then you try and sacrifice yourself in the fade….”

“Varric!” Hawke spat as he stepped forward. “Fenris i….”

“No, I’m not done!” he snapped and Hawke stopped instantly. “I find you and you’re a mess, Hawke. Maker knows that’s not a problem. Look at me when we first met. You were there for me, no matter how little I wanted your help you gave it anyway. But you shut me out! I’m not you Hawke, I don’t know the magic words to get you to let me in. I can feel it, you have done your best to push me away. The second this seems normal again you have us running off on a quest, for a cure that may not even exist. With no explanation as to why. Are you so unhappy with our life that you need to do this? Is it some human mid-life crisis, or is it me, because honestly Hawke I can’t tell. And I refuse to go on like this, I…. I just… I can’t, Hawke.”

“I’m dying Fenris.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. And a weight lifted from his shoulders. Fenris stared at him, his look stuck somewhere between disbelief and anger. “Slowly, but it’s true. I have the taint Fenris, give it a year or two and I’ll lose my mind, like Meredith, shortly after that I’ll turn into a fucking Lyrium statue!” his voice broke. He’d not told anyone this, not wanted to. He’d found a way to fight the symptom’s, and he knew somewhere out there was a cure. He just needed to find it. He didn’t need any of them worrying about him. Fenris still stared at him, frozen. He couldn’t take the silence so he filled it. “Turns out it effects Mages much the same way as Templars. A small amount in the blood stream infects the Lyrium in the body. No constant exposure needed, but it is slower without it. Pure Lyrium, the raw stuff, helps fight it. Maybe with enough I could burn it out of my body completely, but the amount of Lyrium needed would kill me, and if it didn’t I’d be addled for sure. I’d sooner take my chances with the red stuff. That’s why I want the cure. That’s why I tried to sacrifice myself in the fade and that’s why I pushed you away. It may be fine now Fenris, but at some point, I will become dangerous to you.”

Fenris’s face was blank, all his anger from before gone. He hated him, he was sure of it. This was why he’d not told him. He’d not wanted to cause him any pain.

“Fenris, please say something, anything?”

“You didn’t plan on telling me did you?” that wasn’t a question, not really. Even if it was phrased that way. Every cell in Hawke’s body screamed for him to lie, just lie like he’d never lied before, but he couldn’t. Not now, not after all the others he’d told up until this point.

“No, not until I had to. I was hoping we could find the cure, and I never would need to. I didn’t want anyone worrying over me Fenris. I didn’t want it colouring what time I had left if everything failed.”

He was silent again, and Hawke waited. This was so not what he’d had planned, and he’d never planned on telling him like that. He’d have found an easier way. A pained expression crossed Fenris face, only for a second and he closed his eyes. When he opened them they were glassy, something Hawke had never seen before. Not once. The sight of unshed tears is in lover's eyes, made his own sting and cloud up.

“Were done here.” Fenris turned and waded out of the water.

“Fenris! Wait, please….” Hawke’s voice broke as he tried to call after the man he loved. He didn’t even pause. He scooped up his clothes and left. Not saying another word. Hawke’s knees gave out from under him. But the water cushioned his fall. Pain tore through his chest as he willed the tears away. That had felt so final. Had he done what he’d stopped trying to do? He’d pushed him away, the damage was done, and there was no taking it back now.

He couldn’t go back to the farm house. He couldn’t face him, he didn’t want to see the look of betrayal he knew would be in his eyes. But he had nowhere else to go. Resigned he chucked on his pants as he got out of the water, before making the trek back into town. With a sigh, he knocked on the door of the only other person he knew. It took a minute, but finally, the door opened. And Reid stared at him puzzled.

“Maker Hawke, what happened?”

He gave a humourless laugh and shook his head. “Any chance you might consider letting me crash on the couch tonight?”

“Of course, come in.”

He pulled the door closed behind him. Definitely not how he’d imagined his night ending.                                          

           


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised number two....

It wasn’t hard to find his way back to the Hawke’s farm. Even though he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going. He’d always been good with direction, had a natural sense for it. It was one of the few things he could still count on in his life, evidently.

He wasn’t sure he could accurately explain, or even fully understand what was going on in his head. It was a mess he just couldn’t deal with right now. Seeing how it felt as if his chest had been torn wide open and his body hollowed out. He didn’t feel real, his pain didn’t feel real, none of it felt real. How could it be? Hawke was dying. His brain kept telling him that. It was very real, as real as his lover’s voice saying the one thing he’d actually heard, on a loop. ‘I’m dying Fenris.’

He couldn’t escape it, nor did he believe it. Garret was larger than life, a hero, indestructible. He tore doors off of hinges, faced down demons, and blood Mages. He killed the Arishok, sassed the King of Ferelden and called the knight Commander crazy to her face. He was a bit of a cocky arsehole, had serious ego issues and could not be serious even when his life depended on it. Despite all that, Garret Hawke was kind, loyal, fierce, and passionate. He’d go out of his way to help someone in need, did all the time and deep down, even if many of his actions are questionable he was a good person. He couldn’t just die, things like that didn’t happen to him.

He had to believe it was fiction. A lost chapter in Varric’s book. The chatty Dwarf would know just how to deal with this. He’d know the right thing to say when Fenris snapped at him, and he’d find the words to help him accept this was actually happening. That Garret Hawke, the man he loved was dying and there wasn’t a damned thing Fenris could do to stop it.

“Faste vas!” his Lyrium lit up as his fist collided with the apple tree. Phasing through the wood, a defence mechanism, but it made it wholly unsatisfying. As he pulled his fist back, his flesh taking solid form once again, the wood that touched it fell away, scratching at his hand. There was a hole in the tree, a deep hole, but it done nothing to help with his jumbled thoughts. Though his anger had boiled down to a simmer, and other emotions took its place. He’d rather be angry.

This was Hawke’s fault, after all, he’d lied to him. He’d had all the time in the world to tell him, yet, he’d chose not to. There was nothing Fenris could have done with that knowledge admittedly but it was the fact that Hawke had made that decision for him. He had no right to dictate whether or not Fenris worried over him. If he wanted to worry, he would. Hawke couldn’t stop him, and maybe he needed it. Maybe if he’d known the truth, he could have worked through this with him. He could have helped him come to terms with it. They’d both seen firsthand what the Red Lyrium taint did, and the thought that he was going to end up, crazed, mind lost body slowly dying….. he had to stop, he couldn’t think that. He just couldn’t, that made it real. He wasn’t ready for it to be real.

Wetness rolled down his cheek and he reached up to wipe at it.  His eye stung at the thought, but he stared at the dampness on his fingers. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d cried. Danairous had never broken him, Hawke had brought him close a few times, his returning memories had almost had him, but never not even when they’d given him these markings, had he ever shed a tear. Up until this point, he’d been sure he no longer could, maybe he never knew how. 

He scrubbed at his cheeks, took a few deep breaths and pushed everything he could down to a place where he could deal with it when he was ready. He’d face it all in the morning, right now he wanted to be angry, and he wanted to sleep. He pushed open the old gate and made it to the house in a few long strides. Carver and Cullen, both sat before the fire cooking what appeared to be a rabbit on the make shift spit he’d made last night. Fenris saw the look on Carver’s face go from surprise to concern as he sprung to his feet.

“Fenris?” the tone of his voice only served to annoy him further and Fenris cursed in Tevene, and kept his head down. He kept walking, not stopping even as he passed the pair. All the while muttering in his native tongue. “What’s the matter, where’s Garret?” Fenris growled at the mention of his lover’s name, and snapped ‘in the void, for all I care.’ At the younger Hawke before slamming the door to the bedroom behind him. Only he’d said it in Tevene, so the younger Hawke wouldn’t have understood, even if Fenris had really meant it. He did care, but right now Garret was the last person he wanted to see.

He dropped down on the bed, suddenly more tired than he’d ever been and just closed his eyes. He could sleep, and maybe when he woke up he’d realise this had all been some kind of cruel dream. Maybe he’d wake up in Kirkwall, in the arms of the man he loved before the inquisitor tore a hole in the sky. Maybe just maybe, he’d wake up and this nightmare would be over.

 

****

 

And wake up he did. His head hurt as if he’d had too much to drink the night before but of course and probably regrettably he’d been stone cold sober.  He’d not moved an inch all night and a quick glance to the other side of the bed confirmed what he’d expected. Hawke had not returned. Panic welled inside of him, but that was balanced out by the anger that was slowly creeping back. He’d not go looking for him. He wouldn’t.

The door burst open and Carver looked in. He looked like he’d bearly slept all night. He was still in his warden armour from the day before and his hair was unkempt. Dark smudges tarnished the pale skin beneath his eyes and he swore, looking around the room.

“He’s not here.” Fenris frowned at him, but Carver didn’t even look at him. “I drifted off, only for a few hours, I thought maybe he’d snuck in.”

“I’m here, he wouldn’t be.” Fenris’s voice was scratchy and dry, his throat wasn’t much better. Maker, he felt terrible this morning.

“What in the void did you two fight about? I waited up all night for him.” A small part of him wanted to tell Carver the truth, but that really wasn’t his place. Though if Hawke didn’t, he would. He’d not keep Carver in the dark. Hawke was all he had left. He couldn’t allow that.

“Adult stuff,” Fenris muttered and Carver finally looked to him fixing him with a frown.

“Ha, ha. Fine don’t tell me, I don’t care anyway.” Carver turned but his hand still stayed on the door frame. “You’re angry, that’s not half obvious but my brother is reckless. I’m going to look for him, I could use your help. You know him better than anyone.”

Fenris gave a dry laugh and Carver fixed him with a look that Fenris knew all too well. Carver thought he was just being bitter because they had fought, and yes, he was a little but he deserved to be. Hawke, well he knew where he would have gone, and that knowledge didn’t improve his bitterness any. But Garret may be in trouble, and no matter how mad he was, he’d not ever abandon him.

“The blacksmith.” It had come out much harsher than he’d intended and Carver gave him a pitying look. Fenris didn’t want to believe that he’d driven the man he loved into another man’s arms, but where else did he have to go? But that thought didn’t sting quite as much as he thought it would. Jealousy tore his insides up, but he trusted Hawke. Garret Hawke was many things, but he’d never cheat. At least when it come to love. Anything else, and Fenris wouldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. Especially when it comes to wicked grace.

“Right.” Carver left and Fenris sprung to his feet to follow. He was doing this for Carver, not for Garret. They made the short walk into town with ease. They still drew the attention of anyone they passed. Carver in all his warden glory and him and his Lyrium. They weren’t exactly the blending in type but at the moment, he didn’t care. Carver found the Blacksmith without Fenris’s guidance, and he wondered if that had been where it had been when Carver had lived here last. He didn’t ask because he honestly didn’t care enough to. Besides it was going to take all his control not to kill whoever opened that door. By the Maker, it better not be Hawke. Carver knocked and the two men stood awkwardly as they waited for it to open. After what felt like a lifetime the door opened and Reid smiled at them. Fenris hated everything about him. He was too tall, too blonde, too handsome and too human. He was almost positive he’d be too charming, but he’d yet to have much of a conversation with the man.

“Only two of you? Okay well, I guess we can get you two kitted out first. I found some great merc armour back in the store room. Not of my craft but it’s well made, and some impressive rogue armour that looks like it was built for an elf, it would be perfect…” he trailed off as he noticed the confused look on the pair’s face. “Hawke didn’t tell you that I was providing you with all new gear?”

“I haven’t seen Hawke since he left the Tavern last night. We thought he may be here.”

“Here, no. I mean he was. He showed up last night and asked to sleep on the couch. But when I awoke this morning, he was gone. I figured he’d gone to get you.”

“Maker preserve me! I’m going to kill him myself when I find him. Why in the bloody hell was he here? Maker help me Reid did you sleep with my brother?” Carver stepped forward, there was a threat in his voice. Fenris was touched, but he didn’t need Carver fighting his battles.

“What! No! Carver, seriously? He was upset, I couldn’t exactly turn him away. He barely said two words to me. I left him downstairs and went to bed, alone. Fenris, I swear to you. Hawke may flirt and push a lot of boundaries but he’d never…” Fenris held up a hand to stop him. He believed him. After all, like Carver said he knew Hawke better than anyone.

Carver nodded and stepped back, seemingly satisfied with Fenris’s gesture. “We need to get to the Chantry and find Cullen. Then we need to figure out where my brother went. He may be in trouble.”

“No.” Fenris shook his head. There was no need for that, he knew where to go. “I know where he is…”

 

****

 

Fenris almost felt bad, well not really. He knew he should, but he didn’t. They’d both slept in worse places after all.

“This is a new low for you brother.”

Hawke squinted the only eye that he managed to open at them. Before promptly closing it again and hanging his head. “Would you do your big brother a favour and kindly fuck off. Just for like an hour, or ten. I need a moment before I face either of you. My head hurts too much to fight.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before drinking enough to pass out in an alley.”

They found him almost right where Fenris had expected. Instead of in the tavern, he’d been behind it. The bartender had kicked him out in the early hours of the morning. And he’d just sat down against the wall and promptly passed out. Fenris wanted to say he was surprised, but it wasn’t exactly the first time something like this had happened. He’d found Hawke in the strangest of places, especially after he’d been drinking with Isabella. The worst so far was in the Templar barracks in Kirkwall. Cullen had sent for him, to retrieve him because he had been riling up the recruits. He’d sworn black and blue he’d been merely assisting with their training. Maker only knows what he was really doing. He was lucky he’d been Viscount at the time and that he was the champion. Any other Mage tried something like that Cullen would have made them Tranquil without a second thought.

“I didn’t pass out little brother, if you must know. I chose to sleep here. I couldn’t bloody well come back to the farm, I was giving Fenris space.”

Fenris could feel his anger rising again. He’d been doing so well, up until Hawke had said his name. “Venhedis Fasta vass! I don’t need you doing anything for my benefit Mage.”

“No, I’m not even going to bite. Swear as much as you like. We’re done, remember.”

“You twist my words, Hawke. I said we’re done here, as in I was done listening to your excuses.” He sneered at his lover, they would fight if he stayed any longer, and he wasn’t ready for this yet. Neither of them were. “I am glad you are safe, but you are not forgiven. And I will not do this in front of Carver. I will see you at the blacksmiths.”

“Fenris wait…” he heard Hawke scramble to his feet as he walked away. The sound of Carver’s voice muttering in a harsh tone told him he’d stopped Hawke from following. Fenris was grateful for Carver’s intervention. Though he knew he wouldn’t be so understanding if he knew the truth. Maybe it was best they worked it out before they told Carver. Because as much as Hawke might deserve it, it wasn’t fair if the both of them were furious at him.

Once again he made his way into the Chantry alone. He looked around, there was a few sister’s milling around, a couple of kids playing quietly in the back as their parents talked to the Maker. He’d found himself in the Kirkwall Chantry a time or two over the years. He wouldn’t really call himself Andrastian. And he wasn’t entirely sure he believed in the Maker. Even still, when times were hard, or things were bad he’d taken a knee and had spoken to the maker. He blamed Sebastian, that damned brother had gotten to him, just a little.

Though that wasn’t the reason he was here today. He’d nothing to say to the Maker, and he was not foolish enough to beg for his help, no he was here for Cullen. They’d no plan, the Red Templar had no memories, so as promising as this lead was, it was still a dead end. The Inquisition could probably get more from him, but it was a five-day journey by horse to get to Skyhold, and that was if they made haste. Longer if they didn’t. He’d done it in seven, not quite from here, his boat had arrived closer to Denerim but he’d had stops along the way. He’d done the world a favour and ridden it of a few dozen Venitori camps, he’d happened across. So if the Templar had indeed left this morning, to go meet the Inquisition scouts who, Cullen had assured them all had a checkpoint just up the road, it would still be a week minimum before they had anything solid. Longer depending on how long it took for them to get the information. That itself could take days, possibly even weeks. The more he thought about it the slimmer their chances seemed. Though now he knew the truth, he was willing to wait. If you’d asked him yesterday he’d have said it was a waste of their time.

He found the man in question, kneeling in front of a statue of Andraste, candles lit and flickering shadows over his bowed head. Fenris looked around to find somewhere to wait. He’d not interrupt him. Though he barely got a step toward the pillar he’d intended to perch against before someone approached him. The sister greeted him with a friendly smile, but that smile faltered slightly when he took him in. Promptly her smile returned, telling Fenris he’d not escape this encounter.

“Andaran atish’an. We haven’t had one of the Dalish come to us before. You are welcome here. The Maker accepts all his children, even those lost to him.”

He’d no clue what she’d said as a greeting. He knew exactly zero words in Elven. Which he knew was extremely rare for an elf. He wondered if he ever did. Had his parents once taught him the scattered remnants of the old language, most city elves knew? If they had it had been lost to him like so many other things. But so had that inbred hate of humans, so at least that was something.

“I’m not Dalish.” His voice was a dead giveaway. Try as he might he’d never been able to lose that tell-tale accent that marked him as a native of the Imperium.

“No, you are not. You must be the merchant the Templars were talking about. Though I do wonder why a Tevinter merchant is travelling with Cullen Rutherford. Or with Carver Hawke for that matter.” she paused her accepting smile a little less so. “The tall man that was with Cullen yesterday was said to be the Champion of Kirkwall, but you are somewhat of a mystery.” He shook his head. He’d not be if she knew his name. But unlike Hawke, he wasn’t immediately recognisable. Him, along with the rest of their ragtag group got some semblance of anonymity. It wasn’t until he was mentioned that people usually said something along the lines of ‘Oh, you’re that Fenris.’ Like there were many others running around with the name his master had given him. Maybe among the Dalish, where is name had originated.

“I’m of no importance.” He’d not give her the chance to connect his name to Hawke’s. he didn’t want to talk about the man at present, which is what always seemed to happen. Thanks to his stay at Skyhold, he was some big hero again, some even saying he helped turn the tide of the battle when he was sent ahead by the inquisitor to help the men that were being slaughtered on the walls. He believed it. Hawke could turn a tide in battle if he wanted, he just had that presence. It seemed that even if he just stood there, people would be convinced he’d done it almost single handedly. He recalled Hawke asking Varric back when the Champion thing was all new, why he was the hero of his stories. They were all there, after all. So why didn’t Varric paint himself in that light. And Varric had just smiled and patted him on the arm and said _“_ _There's a recipe to a good hero, Hawke. It's like alchemy. One part down-to-earth, one part selfless nobility, two parts crazy, and you season liberally with wild falsehoods. You let that percolate through a good audience for a while, and when it's done, you've got your hero.”_

Hawke fit the mould as if it was made for him, and Varric did the rest. Sometimes even Fenris got lost in the legend and forgot there was a man, a real, flawed, imperfect man behind it. Maker’s breath, he and Hawke needed to talk.

“I’ll leave you to your troubles then, Maker guide you in the direction you need.”

He wanted to laugh, to shake his head, or scoff. Of all the places, it had to be here he remembered that. In a place where he’d never once asked for guidance, he’d found it, from a memory. Was his anger gone? No, not even remotely. Was he ready to forgive Hawke for all his mistakes? Not yet, but he was ready to admit they had been mistakes. Hawke was only a man, and in his grief, he’d forgotten that. He felt like a fool, but the urge to laugh didn’t leave him.

“What’s so amusing?” The voice belonged to the man he’d come looking for and he didn’t want to give him the answer. It would likely offend him, and Fenris wasn’t out to purposely offend his friends, anymore.

“The Maker works in mysterious ways,” he muttered but turned to leave the Chantry without waiting for a response. He got one anyways as Cullen fell into step with him.

“And he has the worst sense of humour.” That remark broke Fenris’s self-control and he laughed right along with the other man. That was the reason he liked Cullen. He never pushed him for an explanation, but still, somehow always understood. Both men smiled as they walked back toward that blacksmith, neither spoke further, but that was fine with both of them.       

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :D


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